/ 




AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF 

ADAM CLARKE, LL.D., 

ETC., ETC., ETC. 

( £3" See the Preface.) 



AN ACCOUNT 

OF THE 

INFANCY, RELIGIOUS AND LITERARY LIFE, 



ADAM CLARKE, LL.D., F.A.S., 

ETC., ETC. j ETC. 

WRITTEN BY ONE 

WHO WAS INTIMATELY ACQUAINTED WITH HIM FROM HIS 
BOYHOOD TO THE SIXTIETH YEAR OF HIS AGE 



EDITED BY THE 

Rev. J. B. B^ CLARKE, M. A., 

TRIN. COLL. CAMBRIDGE. 



Habuit a natura, genus quoddam acuminis, qiiod etiam arte limaverit, 
quod erat in reprehendis verbis versutum et solers ; sed scepe stomacho' 
sum, nonnunquam frigidum, interdum etiam facetum. 



Xaptrt Se Qeov, sifxt b eifJii. 




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sale by Booksellers generally. 

~1833. 



>%3 



JO 

n 



I7¥ 



PREFACE. 



PREFACE. 



There are some circumstances respecting the succeed- 
ing Memoirs which require explanation, and others which 
need statement. 

" If these Memoirs were written by the late Dr. Clarke, 
how happens it that they speak in the third person, and 
appear as though composed by an intimate friend?" — 
The third person was assumed in order to obviate an un- 
pleasant appearance of egotism which Autobiography 
must always assume, more or less offensive, according to 
the skill of the Narrator. In this, Dr. Clarke did but 
follow the example of other great names, and availed 
himself of a disguise, previously made known to the 
Readers, that the mere Individual might not be per- 
petually obtruding himself upon their notice: the atten- 
tion being fixed upon the passing events and described 
feelings, the Author temporarily forgotten, the judgment 
may be thus formed, not from the bias of Dr. Clarke's felt 



8 PREFACE. 

presence, but from the facts as recorded in the Narrative . - 
a mask which gives courage but conceals no feature. 

Various members of his family, as well as some of his 
most intimate friends, frequently and urgently pressed 
Dr. Clarke to publish, or prepare for publication, a Memoir 
of himself ; stating that this would be the only effectual 
mode of preventing false or weak productions being 
palmed upon the world as faithful Memoirs. To all 
representations, however, he remained deaf, till one day 
a friend came and told him, " he had received sure infor- 
mation of a Life of him being even then in preparation ; 
that all his Conversations had been taken down, all his 
Letters treasured up, all his Observations noted, with the 
view of being embodied when the anticipated event should 
take place to call them into public being ; that little dis- 
cretion would be used in selecting ; since, the object being- 
gain, all would be published which would sell ; and that 
even were some conscience shown, still there was no 
judgment to direct ; but indiscreet zeal, or the hope of 
* ungodly gains,' would slay his fame in the house of his 
friend."* Dr. Clarke felt the force of such observations, 

* It is not one of the least remarkable facts connected with the life of 
Dr. Clarke, that the individual here alluded to died before the Doctor ; 
and was visited by him and his youngest son during a long and tedious 
illness. There is a farther notice of this affair in the following Letter 
to his eldest son. 

Liverpool, June 15, 1819. 

My Dear John, 

Some time ago, you wrote requesting me to set about writing the 
-kistory of my Life ; this is a task which, while I have contemplated-, 



PREFACE. 



9 



and the next morning when he came down to breakfast, 
he said to his friend, " I have been up long before day, 

I have feared to attempt ; but I have thought more of the subject, since 
you wrote ; and have lately been obliged to think deeply on it too, in 
consequence of receiving credible information, that my Life is ready 
for the greedy eye of the public, so soon as my heart shall be cold ! 

I came here yesterday evening, and in a private conversation with 

my friend Mr. , he most solemnly begged, and charged me to begin 

the work, because he knew some hackneyed, and hunger-bitten scri- 
veners were ready to praise me to death, and to murder me in verse so 
soon as I ceased to exist among men ; and I was led to believe that 
all the conversations, and anecdotes relative to myself and family for 
several years past, have been carefully taken down, and as carefully 
preserved. Mr. Comer took up the same subject, and most earnestly 
begged me instantly to begin, and defer it no longer. Well, what can 
I do 1 the Commentary is still hanging on my hands. True, I am 
free from the Records, which gives me a measure of leisure, and saves 
me from much anxiety ; laying all these considerations together, with 
the semel calcanda via, and Mr. Comer being in good earnest, and 
having provided and laid on his study table ruled paper for the pur- 
pose, I sat down yesterday and made atrial! * * * * And thus have 
I brought myself on in my journey through life, to the ninth year ot 
my age : and unless death stop me, I shall not stop in it till this be 
finished. I have written it in the third person as to the subject, and in 
the first person as to the narrator. This form may be altered if neces- 
sary. I recollect, when Mr. Thorsby wrote his own life, the pronoun 
J occurred so often in it, that the printer was obliged to borrow i's from 
his brother printers, as his i's had run out. Your father has never 
been in the habit of speaking much of himself ; he has never boasted, 
nor pretended great things ; and it would ill become him, when about 
to pass the great deep, to occupy his time, or that of his Readers, with 
unreal history, or unceremonious, and, generally speaking, unwelcome 
pronouns. Now, suggest to me, my dear John, any thing that strikes 
you — any thing I should not forget, or any thing on which I should 
lay particular stress, &c. &c. 

July 3. I go on but slowly with the Life ; and yet I get on. A 
few pages more might terminate what may be called my initial and 
religious history, and here I might leave it, for all the purposes of 
illustrating either God's providence or His grace. My literary life, 
as it may be called, is another thing ; and belongs more to the world, 
than to the Church of God ; and I question if ever I shall attempt it. 



10 PREFACE. 

and have written several quarto sheets of my very close 
and small writing as a commencement of the history of 
my early life." This he continued, at various short 
intervals, till be brought it down to a period beyond which 
no inducement or solicitation could persuade him to pro- 
ceed, " My early life" [much in this manner he would 
speak,] " no one can know ; nor can any one describe my 
feelings and God's dealings with my soul, some of which 
are the most important circumstances in my life, and are 
of most consequence to the religious world : — these I have 
now secured, and placed in their proper light : — what 
therefore others could neither have known nor described 
so truly as I, are here prevented from being lost : — my 
public life many have known, and it is before the world j 
if it be of importance, there will be found some who will 
transmit its events to posterity; and being passed before 
the eyes of all men, should there be misrepresentations, 
there will necessarily be plenty who can correct them : — 
at any rate, I have done what I feel to be the most import- 
ant part ; for the rest, there are ample materials ; and, as 
the living will, in all probability, write of the dead, let 
my survivors do their part. — Nothing shall ever induce 
me to w rite the history of that portion of my life when I 
began to acquire fame, and great and learned men saw fit 
to dignify with their acquaintance, and to bestow honours 
and distinctions on, a Methodist Preacher." In this reso- 
lution he never for a moment wavered, and hence there 
was no more of his Life written by himself than what is 
contained in the present volume. 



PREFACE. II 

When Dr. Clarke was told of the above intention to 
publish after his death all that he had either written or 
spoken in the confidence of private friendship, or in the 
familiar intercourse of occasional conversations, he was 
very indignant, expressing his abhorrence of such " pre- 
meditated treachery/' as a man's coming into a family to 
act the part of a spy, — to record mutilated opinions, hand 
down disjointed conversations, and to proclaim as the re- 
sult of deliberate judgment what might have been either 
a hasty expression of feeling, or a merely casual or unim- 
portant remark : — " In conversation or correspondence I 
never either spoke or wrote for the public ; friendly inter- 
course was my sole object in the one case, and in the 
other relaxation from severe thought ; after I have been 
writing and studying from five in the morning till half- 
past seven at night, it is hardly likely that I should come 
into the parlour with a disposition or preparation to shine.— 
I write because it is necessary, and I talk because I am 
cheerful and happy." The strong feeling of Dr. Clarke 
on this point is thus recorded, that the Public may not 
hereafter be deluded upon the subject, as if he had au- 
thorized any to take down any of his conversation on any 
occasion : — he had too much respect for the good sense 
and regard of mankind ever to come before them with 
inconsideration ; and was the last man in the world ever 
to be himself a party consenting to the wounding of his 
hard-earned fame by the publication of unprepared docu- 
ments. Such conduct he always considered as treacherous 
in a friend, disgraceful to a man, and shameful to a Chris-? 



12 PREFACE- 

tian. His opinion of the publishing Letters, because they 
were written by a certain individual, he has himself ex- 
pressed in the following pages. (See page 200.) 

The Editor of this volume has had very little trouble 
in the performance of his office ; for the Manuscript was 
left in so complete a state by Dr. Clarke, that few things 
needed any alteration. No addition of any kind has been 
made, not even the insertion of any thing which the Au- 
thor himself had formerly written, but had not himself 
introduced: this was judged necessary, that Dr. Clarke 
might not be rendered accountable for what another had 
chosen to insert : for this reason some Letters are referred 
to the end which might otherwise have been included and 
wrought into the body of the Work. 

It may be expedient to add a few words concerning the 
remaining portion of this Work, which has been written 
by "A Member of the Family. 55 For this part Dr. Clarke 
supplied all the materials ; he gave up his Journals, his 
Common-place Book, his private papers, and wrote many of 
the accounts contained in it with his own hand ; and after 
the whole was digested into a Narrative, up to the year 
1830, he looked over it and placed his signature to each 
sheet as a testimony that the alleged facts were true, 
leaving the Author of course accountable for the manner 
of their expression, as well as for the mode of their com- 
bination. Any farther particulars which may be necessary 
will be mentioned in the Preface to the succeeding volume. 



PREFACE. IS 

It is highly probable that many, on the perusal of this 
Work, may be inclined to exclaim, " We have heard strange 
things to-day;" and others may be excited to purer faith 
and greater diligence in the ways of godliness. To the 
latter, may the Author of all good grant an assurance to 
their faith, and strength and continuance to their work- 
ing ; while to the former, may their hesitancy be overcome, 
that they may walk in a like path, and the "strange 
things" be converted into the experienced feelings of 
their own hearts, and the enjoyed blessings in their own 
souls. 

J. B. B. CLARKE. 

Frome, November, 1832 
2 



INTRODUCTION. 



INTRODUCTION. 



It is to be regretted that few persons who have arrived 
at any degree of eminence or fame, have written Memorials 
of themselves, at least such as have embraced their private 
as well as their public life. By themselves or contempora- 
ries their public transactions have been in general amply 
recorded, with the apparent motives which led them to their 
particular lines of action, and the objects they aimed at by 
thus acting : but how they became capable of acting such 
parts ; how their minds acquired that impulse which gave 
them this direction ; what part an especial Providence, pa- 
rental influence, accident, or singular occurrence, and edu- 
cation, had, in forming the man, producing those habits 
which constitute his manners, and prepared him for his 
future lot in life, we are rarely told. And without this, we 
neither can trace the dispensations of Providence, nor the 
operations of those mental energies by which such effects 
have been produced. Hence the main benefit of biography 
is lost, — emulation leading to imitation has no scope. We 
cannot follow the man because we do not see his previous 
footsteps : he bursts generally on our sight, like a meteor, 
and we are dazzled with the view : to us he is inimitable 
2* 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

because he is enrobed with all his distinguishing perfec- 
tions and eminence before we are introduced to his acquain- 
tance. Were it otherwise, we should probably see that 
those who have reached the highest degrees of elevation 
beyond those who were born in the same circumstances 
and line of life, were not indebted so much to anything 
extraordinary in themselves, as to a well-timed and sedu- 
lous use of their own powers, and such advantages as their 
circumstances afforded ; and that what occurs to others, as 
mere accidents, were by them seized and pressed into their 
own service, and shewed them the necessity of attentive 
observation, that neither occurrence nor moment, should 
pass by unnoticed or unimproved. 

We may rest satisfied that effects, which evidently have 
nothing in them supernatural, spring from natural causes : 
that the whole is an orderly procession, and appears asto- 
nishing to us, only because we do not see that concatena- 
tion of circumstances which, by a steady operation, produ- 
ced the result. 

Few men can be said to have inimitable excellencies : 
let us watch them in their progress from infancy to man- 
hood, and we shall soon be convinced that what they attain- 
ed was the necessary consequence of the line they pursued, 
and the means they used. But these things are not known, 
because we have not the history of their lives in any conse- 
cutive order : that of their infancy, when life ordinarily gets 
its direction and colouring, is generally suppressed by them- 



INTRODUCTION IQ 

selves or narrators ; possibly, because it is deemed insig- 
nificant; or because men who have risen out of the lower 
or middle classes of life, to literary or civil distinction, 
are unwilling to tell their small beginnings ; and thus, 
through false shame, what would really redound to their 
honour, explain apparent mysteries in the Providence which 
conducted the affairs of their lives, and would render those 
lives truly and endlessly usefu], by shewing that they 
were perfectly imitable, is lost to mankind. I say nothing 
of those things which may not be improperly termed bio- 
graphical romances, — lives which were never lived, and 
virtues which were never practised. 

To exhibit a man through every period of his life, who 
has obtained some distinction as well in the republic of 
letters as in religious society ; and how he acquired this 
distinction, is the principal design of the following sheets: 
and the reason for doing this, is threefold: — 1. To mani- 
fest the goodness of God to those who trust in Him ; and 
how He causes all things to work together for the good 
of such persons ; that He may have the praise of His own 
grace : and, 2dly, To prevent the publication of improper 
accounts, the only object of which is to raise unholy gains, 
by impositions on the public. Sdly. To shew to young 
men, who have not had those advantages which arise from 
elevated birth and a liberal education, how such defects 
may be supplied by persevering industry, and the redemp- 
tion of time. Young Ministers, especially, may learn 
from these Memoirs a useful lesson. They see what has 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

been done towards mental improvement, in circumstances 
generally worse than their own, and that a defect in ta- 
lents frequently arises from a defect in self cultivation : 
and that there is much less room for excuse than is ge- 
nerally supposed : in short, that no quarter should be 
shewn to those who ivhile away time, and permit a sort of 
religious gossipping to engender in them the disgraceful 
habits of indolence or sloth. It is hoped, and not unreason- 
ably, that they will see from a perusal of this work, that 
the divine Providence is never parsimonious in affording 
all necessary advantages, and if duly improved, neither 
they, nor the people to whom they minister, will have 
much cause to complain of a deficiency of gifts through 
inadequate supplies of Providence, or inefficient influence 
from grace. Those who consider such cases as that here 
exhibited without profit, must have an incurable hebitude 
of disposition, with which it would be in vain to contend, 
as they have reconciled themselves to its indulgence, and 
thus have become " such as cannot teach, and will not 
learn." 



CONTENTS. 



i 



CONTENTS. 



BOOK I. 

The great human family speedily divided into branches . . §7 
The surname of Clarke originated from the office of clerk . 38 
The knowledge of letters not common in ancient times in Eng- 
land . . . . ■ [ 38 

Withred, king of Kent, A. D. 700, signed a charter of Liberties 

with the sign of the Cross, because he could not write 39 
Henry the First, the only one of his family that could write . 39 
Boldon Book contains a Survey of the Bishoprick of Durham, 

in 1183 . . 39 

Adam, the Clerk, mentioned as tenant in it ... 39 
Various instances of surnames in that and Domesday, de- 
rived from offices and employments, .... 39 
Different kinds of names among the Romans .... 40 
Difference between the prcsnomen, nomen, and cognomen . 40 
Ingenui among the Romans, the same as gentleman among 

the English 41 

Family of Clarke originally English 41 

Went over to Ireland in the seventeenth century, and settled 

in the county of Antrim . . . . . .41 

Matrimonial connexions 41 

Hugh Stuart Boyd, allied to the family of Clarke by mar- 
riage, and still holds some of the estates ... 42 
Short pedigree of the Clarke family .... C note) 42 
Anecdote of William Clarke, great-great-grandfather of Adam 

Clarke (note) 42 

John Clarke, the great-grandfather, has 19 children, — 18 sons 

and 1 daughter . . . . . (note) 42 

Horseman Clarke died of hydrophobia in consequence of being 

spattered with the foam of a mad dog . . (note) 43 
The Clarke family lost their estates, in consequence of the ab- 
sence of a material witness in a trial at law (note) 43 
John Clarke, father of Adam, takes his degree of M. A. at 

Edinburgh and Glasgow . . . . . .44 

Enters as Sizer in Trinity College, Dublin, being intended 

for the church .44 

His prospects in the church blighted by a premature mar- 
riage ; . 45 

Licensed as a public parish schoolmaster .... 45 
Marries Miss Hannah Mac Lean, descended from the Mac 

Leans of Mull 45 

Feud between the Mac Leans and Mac Donalds . . 45 
Mr. John Clarke embarks for America, with the promise of a 

professorship in one of the new Universities there . 46 



24 CONTENTS. 

Is prevented from sailing by his father .... **^5 
Gets into difficulties in consequence of breaking up his es- 
tablishment 47 

Settles in an obscure village in the county of Derry, called 

Moybeg . . ... . . . . .47 

Adam, his second son, born 47 

No register of the time of his birth preserved ... 47 
Tracy CLARKE^the eldest son, licensed by the Consistorial Court 

of Derry, as a parish schoolmaster .... 48 

Bound apprentice to a surgeon • . 48 

Goes to Dublin, and studies anatomy under Dr. Cleghome, 

of Trinity College .48 

Sails in a slave ship to Guinea and the West Indies . . 48 

His journal destroyed by the captain of the ship . . 48 
Various instances of cruelty witnessed by him during his 

voyage ......... 49 

Is disgusted with the horrid nature of the traffic ; abandons 

it, and establishes himself as a surgeon, near Liverpool, 50 

Adam Clarke very hardy in his infancy 51 

His uncle, the Rev. J. Mac Lean, remarkable for his 

strength . . . . . ". . .52 

One of his aunts very diminutive 52 

The district remarkable for having produced tall strong men 52 
Adam gets well through the small pox by naturally adopting the 

cool regimen 53 

His early religious impressions and conversations with a 

school-fellow 54 

Anecdote of Dr. Barnard 55 

Adam has a horror of becoming fat 55 

Has his fortune told by a spae-man 55 

Is a very inapt scholar 56 

Prediction of a neighbouring schoolmaster concerning him 56 

Unfitness of many public teachers for their employment . . 57 

Adam abandons his Latin grammar in despair .... 58 
Is severely reproved by the master, and taunted by his 

school-fellows ■ . .58 

His intellect becomes suddenly enlightened, and he advances 

in his learning rapidly 58 

Reflections upon this sudden revolution ... 59 

Advice to schoolmasters .59 

Adam never makes any great progress in arithmetic . . 60 

Depressed state of the family . 60 

The prices of various branches of education in Ireland at the 

latter end of the 18th century 60 

Mr. John Clarke cultivates his farm according to the rules laid 

down by Virgil in his Georgics . . . 61 
Adam and his brother alternately work in the farm, and instruct 

each other 61 

Read the Eclogues and Georgics of Virgil in the midst of 

scenes similar to those described in that work . . 62 
Fragments of a Satire written by Adam on one of his school- 
fellows 62 

Scholia on ditto 64 

The love of reading in Adam and his brother becomes intense 64 

They lay by their half-pence and pence to buy books . 64 



C0NTENT8. 25 

Page 

A catalogue of their books (35 

Works of imagination useful to young minds .... 66 

Adam reads the Pilgrim's Progress 66 

His reflections as a child upon the conduct of Christian in 

the dungeon 66 

More mature reflections 67 

Becomes an enthusiastic admirer of the Trojan hero, Hec- 
tor, from hearing his father recite portions of the Iliad 67 
Is induced to attempt to obtain a knowledge of occult philo- 
sophy 68 

Forms an acquaintance with a company of travelling tinkers, 

who profess to be adepts in magic .... 68 
Is deterred from pursuing his magical studies, by reading 
an answer to a question on that subject in the " Athe- 
nian Oracle" 69 

From the reports spread in the neighbourhood of his super- 
natural powers, marauders are deterred from robbing 

his father's premises 69 

Receives the first taste for Oriental literature by reading the 

Arabian Nights' Entertainments 70 

Derives great benefit from reading the adventures of Robin- 
son Crusoe and iEsop's Fables 71 

Manner in which the peasants of the North of Ireland spend 

their winters' evenings 71 

Strong impression made upon the memory of the hearer by the 

relation of the Gaelic stories 71 

Baptism of Fion ma cool, or Fingal, by St. Patrick ... 72 

Manners of the Irish peasantry 72 

Adam's Mother, a Presbyterian of the old puritanic school . 73 

Her method of reproving her children .... 73 
An instance of the effect of her reproofs upon her son 

Adam 73 

Her creed leads her to represent the Almighty rather as a 

God of justice than a God of mercy .... 74 

She impresses on her family a great reverence for the Bible 74 

Evening prayer taught by her to her children ... 75 

Morning prayer and Doxology 75 

Her manner of spending the Sabbath with her family . 75 

Religious education of the family 76 

Mode of practising sacred music in the North of Ireland . . 76 
Various instances from sacred and profane history of the 

antiquity of this mode of singing .... 76 

Not in use among the Irish Roman Catholics ... 78 

An account of the Caoinian or Irish howl .... 78 

A. C. learns dancing . . . . 79 

Its evil effects upon him 79 

His protest against this branch of education ... 80 

Various projects for A. C.'s settlement in life .... 80 
Has a very narrow escape for his life in consequence of a 

fall from his horse 81 

A. C. has another narrow escape from death by drowning . 81 

Conversation with Dr. Letsom on the subject ... 82 

Sensations while under water, and on coming to life . . 82 

A remarkable anecdote of an attempted robbery and murder . 83 

Unfortunate accident by an incautious use of fire-arms . . 86 
3 



20 CONTENTS. 

figM 

Remarkable events attending- the deaths of two brothers . 06 

General belief in fairies in that part of Ireland ... 87 

BOOK II. 

Summary of religion oS 

A. C.'s first religious instructors 88 

He hears for the first time of the Methodists, through the 

medium of a newspaper 89 

Is induced to go to hear them by the prospect of deri- 
ving amusement 89 

Is struck by an observation of the preacher . . 90 

Is induced to go to hear him a^ain .... 90 

Adam's parents approve of the Methodist doctrines . . 91 

The preachers are invited to, and entertained in, their house 91 

A. C. begins to feel an increasing attachment to religion . 91 

True religion makes no man slothful 92 

A. C. is stirred up to greater diligence in prayer, by a conversa- ' 

tion with Mr. Barber 92 

He is dispirited by opinions of religious friends . . 92 

Determines to search the Scriptures for himself . . 93 
He forms the Articles of his Creed from his own study of 
the Sacred Writings, without referring to any human 

creed or confession of faith 93 

A. C. is taken by his mother to a class-meeting . . . 93 

Is taken notice of and encouraged by the leader . . 94 

His mind becomes filled with doubts .... 94 

An anecdote of the Caliph Aalee 95 

A. C. is filled with doubts concerning the Atonement . . 95 
This proceeds so far that he conceives himself guilty of 

idolatry by praying in the name of Christ . . 96 

Is delivered from this state of mind by earnest prayer . 96 
From his own feelings on this subject, he always thought it 
his duty to caution others against the Arian and Soci- 

nian errors 96 

A. C, from his own experience on this occasion, forms his 
opinion of the spurious doctrine of the Eternal Son- 
ship of Christ 96 

Arguments against this doctrine ... 97 
Danger of young converts mingling with persons who are fond 

of doubtful disputations 97 

A. C.'s mental sufferings from the temporary perversion of his 

creed 97 

He has a strong desire to receive the Sacrament for the first 

time 98 

His preparations for that solemn ordinance . . 99 

The clergyman much affected while giving him the bread 99 
A. C.'s feelings during the ordinance, and his opinion of the 

nature of this Sacrament 100 

Advice to communicants 100 

A. C. undergoes great spiritual anguish 101 

Reflections on this 101 

Finds peace with God 102 

Converses with Mr. Barber on the subject .... 102 



CONTENTS. 27 

Page 

Receives the witness of the Spirit, and a clear evidence of 

his acceptance with God 103 

Extract of a Sermon preached by him, on this subject, 

se.ven years after, at Plymouth .... 104 

Reflections on the nature and uses of religion .... 106 
A. C. finds his mind enlightened and more adapted to receive 

instruction through his increase in spiritual knowledge 106 
Acquires a taste for Natural Philosophy, by the perusal of 
" Derham's Astro-theology," and " Ray's Wisdom of 

God in the Creation" 107 

The Dictionaries of John Kersey and Benjamin Martin of 

great use to him 108 

Two of his sisters join the Methodists .... 109 
He is the means of the conversion of one of his school- 
fellows . . .109 

Account of Andrew Coleman 109 

His wonderful progress in learning 110 

Straitened circumstances . . . . . . .110 

An intimate friendship formed between him and A. C. .110 
He is employed as a class-leader . . . . .111 

Sent out as a travelling preacher Ill 

Dies at the age of eighteen of a consumption . . .111 

A. C.'s reflections on his death Ill 

Instances of Andrew Coleman's extraordinary memory . . 112 
Adam Clarke begins to exhort in the neighbouring villages . 112 
His method of procedure in such cases .... 113 
Sometimes preaches in nine or ten villages in one day . 113 
Turns his attention to mathematics . . . .113 

His profits in Gnomonics 113 

Makes considerable exertions to obtain a knowledge of the 

French language 114 

Occasionally amuses himself with attempts at poetry . 114 
A. C. is placed on trial, prior to being apprenticed with Mr. 

Francis Bennet, a linen merchant . . . .114 
All his religious friends averse to this arrangement . .114 
Mr. John Bredin writes to Mr. Wesley concerning him . 115 
Mr. Wesley offers to take him into Kings wood School . 115 
His parents receive the proposal with indignation . .115 
Mr. Bennet offers to set him up in business as an Irish pro- 
vision merchant 115 

He meets with many judicious and religious friends at 

Coleraine 116 

He derives much spiritual benefit from the perusal of " Bax- 
ter's Saints' Everlasting Rest," and the " Journal of 

David Brainard" 116 

He attracts the notice of Mr. Rutherford and other preachers 116 
He is unpleasantly situated in Mr. Bennet's family, owing 

to a termagant of a servant 117 

And a sick relative . . . . . .118 

His method of reproving sin . . . . . t 118 

An extract from his Journal 119 

Much temptation, as well as prayer and reading, necessary to 

form a Christian minister 119 

A. C. becomes so exceedingly cautious in his conversation, that 



299 



CONTENTS. 



at last he doubts the most evident facts, and hesitates at 
trusting the evidence of his senses .... 120 
He brings himself down to the edge of the grave by fast- 
ing and self-denial 120 

His memory becomes affected 120 

He is filled with distressing doubts 121 

His opinion that he was permitted to undergo all these 
trials in order to qualify 'him for the ministerial 

office 121 

In after-life no case of conscience could come before 
him in which he was not qualified to judge from 

Ins own experience of the state .... 121 

His deliverance from this state of misery . . . 122 

The means he used to strengthen his memory . . . 122 

His imperfect memory of use to him as a preacher . . 123 
He is obliged in the pulpit to trust to judgment rather than 

recollection 123 

This renders his mode of preaching new and effective 124 

BOOK III. 

Advice to young ministers 125 

Different ranks in the primitive church 125 

A. C.'s great reluctance to commence regular preacher . .125 

His first sermon 126 

He is encouraged by the approbation of his congregations 126 

Prepares to leave Ireland 127 

Gets a certificate from the Rector of the parish . . 127 

Is ordered over to Kingswood School .... 127 

Strong objections of his parents to this measure . 127 
His Mother becomes persuaded that God has called her son 
to the Ministry, and brings over his Father to consent 

to the voyage to England 128 

A. C. embarks at Londonderry and sails for Liverpool . . 123 

Occurrences during the voyage 129 

The ship is visited by a press-gang .... 130 
A. C.'s reflections upon this unconstitutional method of 

manning the Royal Navy 130 

A. C. is taken by the captain of the packet to his house . . 130 

His conversation there with a Scotch lady . . . 131 

And a Roman Catholic 131 

He takes his place by the Fly for Birmingham . . 132 

Company on the road 133 

Danger of quoting Heathen authors as evidences in 

favour of Christianity 134 

Equal danger in quoting the Fathers in proof of the 

doctrines of the Gospel 134 

Is kindly received at Bimiingham 134 

Has his expectations of Kingswood School considerably 

lessened 135 

His arrival at Bristol 136 

Occurrences at the inn in Bristol 136 

Sets off for Kingswood with three half-pence in his pocket 136 
His unfeeling reception there . . . . .136 



CONTENTS. 29 

Page 

His usage there „ 138 

Instances of the tyranny of the mistress . . . 139 

A. C.'s first introduction to Mr. Rankin 139 

Character of Mr. Rankin 140 

A. C.'s intercourse with him in after life .... 140 

A description of Kingswood School in the year 1782 . . 140 

Domestic establishment there 141 

Characters of the teachers 141 

Mr. Wesley's declared opinion of this School in the year 

1783 141 

Reasons of the disorganization of the School . . 142 

The School much improved of late years . . . 142 

A. C. finds a half-guinea while digging in the garden . . 143 

He is thus enabled to purchase a Hebrew grammar . . 144 
This apparently trifling occurrence lays the foundation of 
all his knowledge of the Sacred Writings in the Old 

Testament 144 

His first introduction to Mr. Wesley .... 144 
A. C. is ordained by Mr. Wesley, and sent to Bradford, in 

Wiltshire . . . 144 

Hears Mr. Wesley preach 144 

Meets with Mr. Charles Wesley 145 

The reason why A. C.'s name does not appear in the Minutes 
of the Methodist Conference the first year of his be- 
coming a travelling preacher 145 

A. C.'s situation becomes much improved by the arrival of Mr. 

Wesley . . 145 

Farther instances of tyranny in the mistress of Kingswood 

School ..... ... 146' 

A. C. is confirmed by the bishop of Bristol . . . 146 

His feelings on leaving Kingswood School . . . 147 
He is very young when sent out to preach, and from his 

youthful appearance is generally called the little boy . 147 

His qualifications as a preacher . 147 

His Creed 148 

Reflections on the Articles of his Creed . . . 152 
Reflections on the tenth Article, relative to the Eternal 

Sonship 152 

BOOK IV. 

Extent of the Bradford (Wilts) Circuit in 1782 . . .153 

Great extent of circuit favourable to a young preacher . . 153 
A. C. is fearful that his youth may hinder his usefulness as a 

preacher . . . . . . . . . 153 

Is pleasingly disappointed in this respect .... 153 

An anecdote of his preaching at Road . ... 154 

God blesses his ministry in all parts of the circuit . . 155 

A. C. commences the study of the Hebrew language . . 156 

A critique upon Bayley's "Hebrew grammar .... 155 

A. C.'s method of studying 156 

Reads through four volumes of Mr. Wesley's History of 
the Church, while riding on horseback to attend his 

various appointments 156 

3* 



S3 



CONTENTS. 



Has his studies put a stop to for a time by the injudicious 

interference of a brother preacher .... 157 

Makes a vow to give up all learning . . 157 
Is encouraged in this resolution by the preacher before 

alluded to 158 

The sinful nature of such a vow 153 

The manner in which Mr. C. was led to view it in its pro- 
per light 158 

A quotation from a Sermon of Bridaine 158 

Mr. Wesley encourages Mr. C. to resume his studies . . 159 
A. C. finds that, after four years' loss of time, it is no easy thing 

to resume his studies with profit to himself . . 160 
The assertion, that the Methodists as a body undervalue learn- 
ing, not a correct one 160 

Mr. C. gives up the use of tea and coffee in consequence of read- 
ing a pamphlet written on the subject by Mr. Wesley 161 
Saves several years of time, during his life, by thus giving 

up tea-parties 161 

He is summoned to the Bristol Conference in 1783 . . 161 

Extracts from his Journal 161 

He is admitted into Full Connexion, after travelling only 

eleven months 162 

His reflections on this occasion 162 

His whimsical dilemma upon his examination . .163 

He is appointed to the Norwich Circuit, August, 1783 . 163 

His ministerial exertions during the preceding ten months 163 

Mr. C.'s personal experience during the same period . . 163 

His reasons for not wishing to preserve his Journal . . 164 

Extent of the Norwich Circuit in the year 1783 . . . 164 

The names and characters of the preachers in that Circuit 165 

The Circuit very low as regarded numbers and religion . 165 

The manner of providing for the preachers in Norwich . . 166 

Ludicrous anecdote 166 

Anecdote of a clergyman 167 

Mr. C.'s mechanical contrivances 167 

He literally obeys the advice given to preachers when ad- 
mitted into the Methodist Connexion .... 167 
He undergoes great hardships in his Circuit during the 

winter of 1783—4 168 

His expedients to preserve himself from the cold . . 168 

Luxuries of primitive Methodism 168 

Extracts from Mr. C.'s Journal 170 

Mr. C. hears Mr. Wesley preach eight sermons, of which he 

preserves the texts 171 

The people of Norfolk much addicted to Sabbath-breaking . 171 

An anecdote of a Norfolk miller 172 

Ditto of Mr. John Hampson and Mr. Wesley . .172 

Ditto of Mr. George Holder 173 

An extract from Mr. C.'s Journal concerning the Swedenborgian 

doctrine of " no persons" in the Trinity . . .174 

A sabbath-breaker shot 175 

More extracts from the Journal . . . . . .175 

Mr. C.'s prejudice against female preachers .... 176 

He hears Miss Sewell preach . ... 176 



CONTENTS. 31 

His sentiments in some measure altered . . . . r/6 

Reflections in his Journal on female preaching . . . 176 

He is appointed to the St. Austell Circuit .... 177 
Has a guinea sent him to defray his travelling expenses 

during a journey of 400 miles 178 

His journey from Norfolk to Cornwall .... 178 

Extent of the St. Austell circuit in the year 1784 . . . 179 

Great revival of religion there 179 

Several persons, distinguished for their abilities, join the 

Society 179 

Character of Mr. Samuel Drew 179 

Mr. C. goes to preach at a place called Trego . . . . 179 

Is not permitted to preach, and is turned out at night . . 180 

His behaviour on this occasion 181 

He nearly loses his life by the falling of his horse . . 182 
Does not recover from the ill effects of his fall for more than 

three years 182 

Extracts from Mr. C.'s Journal ...... 182 

Description of a remarkable meteor ...... 183 

State of religion in the St. Austell circuit .... 183 

Mr. C. injures his health by his exertions .... 183 

He preaches 568 sermons^ besides giving numerous exhor- 
tations, and travelling some hundreds of miles, in 

eleven months . 184 

He turns his attention to chemistry 184 

He works at the furnace himself in order to understand the 

various Scriptural allusions to the refining of silver . 184 * 
Reads the alchemistic writers, and goes through several of 

the initiatory operations " 184 

Forms an intimate friendship with Mr. Richard Mabyn, of 

Camelford . . .184 

He is appointed to the Plymouth Dock circuit . . . 185 

Extent of the circuit in 1785 185 

The Society is doubled during the year of Mr. C.'s mi- 
nistry 186 

He obtains the loan of Chambers's Encyclopaedia . . 186 

His high opinion of that work 186 

Suggestions for the improvement of it . . . . 187 

Purchases Leigh's Critica Sacra 187 

Has a copy of Dr. Kennicott's Hebrew Bible lent him by 
Miss Kennicott ; this work first directs his attention to 

Biblical Criticism 187 

His unpleasant situation with a choir of singers . . 188 
His opinion of choirs of singers as forming part of reli- 
gious worship . . 188 

An account of Mr. Mason . . . . . . . 189 

A remarkable anecdote, illustrating the effect of quack medi- 
cines . . . . . . . . . . 191 

Dangerous nature of these nostrums 192 

Mr. C.'s appointment to the Norman Isles .... 192 

He prepares to go to Jersey ...... 192 

His first acquaintance with the family of Cooke . . 193 
Becomes attached to Miss Mary Cooke, afterwards Mrs. 

Clarke . 193 



32 



CONTENTS. 



Ptt£t 

Reflections, extracted from his Journal, chiefly written during 

visits to Winchester Cathedral 193 

On Earthly Glory 194 

Remarkable Epitaph on two brothers of the name of Clerk 194 

Reasons for the slow progress of Revelation . . . 195 

On Conscience 196 

Are Natural Evils the effect of Inevitable Necessity . . 199 
Mr. C.'s opinion of the common practice of publishing after 

their death, Letters written by eminent men . . 200 
Injury done to the memory of Pope and Swift by this 

practice 200 

Injury done to the character of the late Mr. Fletcher, of 

Madeley, by ill judging friends 200 

A description of the Norman Isles ...... 201 

Mr. C. commences preaching there 201 

He begins tie novo with Greek and Latin . . . 201 

Takes up the Septuagint 201 

His opinion of this Version .... 202 
Notes the most important differences between this 

Version and the Hebrew Text . . . 202 
Derives much assistance from the Public Library at 

St. Hellier's 202 

Here he first meets with a copy of the Polyglott 203 
Dean Prideaux's Connexions gives him an accurate 
y view of the Targums of Onkelos and Jona- 
than Ben Uzziel .203 

Reads "Walton's Introductio ad Linguas Oricntales, 

and the Schola Syriaca of Professor Leusden 203 
Devotes all his leisure time to the reading and collating 
the original Texts in the Polyglott, particu- 
larly the Hebrew, Samaritan, Chaldee, Sy- 

riac, Vulgate, and Septuagint . . . 203 

Obtains a Polyglott of his own 204 

His reflections on this occasion .... 204 
Mr. Wesley, accompanied by Dr. Coke and Mr. Bradford, visits 

the Norman Isles 204 

They leave the Islands for Penzance .... 205 

Occurrences on the voyage ..... 205 

Mr. C.'s opinion of Mr. Wesley 206 

Character of Miss Cooke, afterwards Mrs. Clarke . . . 206 
The connexion between her and Mr. C. opposed by her 

friends . . . . . . . . .207 

Mr. Wesley is induced, by false representations, to oppose 

their marriage 207 

Afterwards, on finding out his error, becomes a me- 
diator 207 

Mr. C. and Miss Cooke are married, April 17, 1788 . . 207 

The union a happy one 207 

Other marriages in that family 207 

Mr. C. is attacked by a mob, while preaching at La Valle in 

Guernsey 208 

He has another narrow escape for his life from a mob at 

St. Aubin's, in the Island of Jersey . . . 208 

The mob nearly destroy the preaching-house . . 209 



CONTENTS. 



33 



Page 

Dr. C.'s account of this transaction, in his Comment on 

Luke iv. 20 (note) 209 

Mr. C. goes, the following Sabbath, to the same place to preach 210 

Is again attacked by the mob 210 

His address to them 210 

Is taken under their protection, and never again molested by 

them 211 

The mob being ashamed of their conduct, and having given 

up persecution, a 'magistrate opposes him . . .211 

He nearly loses his life from the effects of intense cold . 212 

Is preserved by the presence of mind of his companion 212 
A similar instance occurred to Dr. Solander and Sir 

Joseph Banks 212 

Mr. C. has, in after years, the opportunity of serving 

his preserver 213 

MV. C.'s first visit to the Isle of Alderney . 213 

Threatened opposition of the Governor .... 214 

Lands in the Island, and preaches at a poor cottage . . 215 
Is, after a short interval, called upon to preach again before 

one of the justices 215 

Preaches on the following Sabbath at the English church . 216 
Meets with no opposition from the authorities, and is well 

received of all 216 

Is obliged to be his own cook during his stay in the island 217 

Proofs of the fertility of the Norman Isles .... 218 

Mr. C.'s removal to the Bristol circuit, in 1789 .... 218 

His health much injured by his continual exertions . . 218 

Mr. Wesley's last Conference, at Bristol, in 1790 . . . 219 
Rule made there that no preacher should preach three times 

during the same day 219 

Difference between preaching a sermon and uttering 

one 219 

Mr. C. appointed to the Dublin circuit, 1790 . . . 220 
Is laid up with a rheumatic affection, in consequence of re- 
siding in a newly finished damp house* . . . 220 
Disputes in the Dublin Circuit concerning the introduction of the 

Liturgy into the Methodists' Chapel .... 221 
Mr. C. gives his voice against the use of the Liturgy in the Me- 
thodists' Chapel 221 

His reasons for opposing the introduction of the Liturgy . 221 

Sees his mistake in -after life 222 

Death of Mr. Wesley 222 

A letter from Dr. Barnard. Bishop of Killaloe, to Mr. Clarke 

(note) 222 

Mr. C. appointed one of his six trustees by Mr. Wesley's will 222 
Enters himself at Trinity College, Dublin . . . 223 
Studies under Drs. Dickinson, Cleghorn, and R. Percival 223 
Establishes the Strangers' Friend Society, in Dublin, Man- 
chester, and London 223 
He removes to Manchester, 1791 ... . . . 223 

Obliged to have recourse to the Buxton waters for the re- 
covery of his health 224 

Commencement of the French Revolution .... 224 

Mr. C.'s colleagues take opposite sides on this question . 224 



34 



CONTENTS. 



Ministers of the Gospel have nothing to do with politics . . $35 

Conclusion of Dr. Clarke's own Narrative .... 225 

APPENDIX. 

Mr. Clarke becomes acquainted with a Turkish officer of Ja- 
nissaries 229 

Ibrahim Bex Ali is baptized . .... 230 

His birth and first impressions relative to Christianity 230 

Marries his first wife at the age of thirteen . . 230 
Marries his second and third wives . . . .231 
He is taken up, on suspicion, for the murder of two of 

his comrades 231 

The real murderers discovered . . . 232 

He is taken prisoner in Wallachia, by the Russians . 233 

Accused at Constantinople of being a Christian . . 233 
His parents, wives, and children, butchered at Ismail, 

by the Russians 233 

His death 234 



LETTERS, from Mr. Clarke to Miss Maiy Cooke, afterwards 
Mrs. Clarke 



235 



THE LIFE 

OP 

ADAM CLARKE, LL.D., 

ETC., ETC., ETC. 



THE LIFE 



OF 



ADAM CLARKE, LL.D., 



ETC., ETC.; ETC. 



BOOK I. 

Man may be considered as having a twofold origin — natural, 
which is common and the same to all — patronymic, which 
belongs to the various families of which the whole human race 
is composed. This is no arbitrary distinction ; it has existed 
from the commencement of the world ; for although God has 
made of one blood all the nations of men to dwell on the face 
of the whole earth, so that all the inhabitants of the world nave 
sprung from one original pair; yet, this family became speedily 
divided into branches, less or more famous or infamous, as the 
progenitor was good or bad : or, in other words, pious, wise, 
and useful ; or, profligate, oppressive, and cruel. 

This distinction existed even in the family of Adam, as we 
may see in the lives of Cain and Seth : the posterity of the 
former being uniformly marked as wicked and cruel, and even 
apostates from the true God ; while the posterity of the latter 
were equally remarkable for all the social and moral virtues, 
and were the preservers, as well as the patterns, of pure and 
undented religion. 

This patronymic distinction is not less evident in the great 
Abrahamic family, — in the descendants of Ishmael and Isaac ; 
from the former of whom sprang the various tribes of Idumeans 
and Arabs, whose history occupies so large a part of the annals 
of the human race; and from the latter, all the Jewish tribes, 
and that singular family continued, by a chain of the most re- 
markable and miraculous providences, from which came Jesus 
the Messiah, the Almighty Saviour of the human race. 

To trace this any farther would be foreign to my design ; as 



as 



THE LIFE 0? ADAM CLARKE. 



it has only been introduced as an apology for the slight notice 
that shall be taken of the family from which the subject of 

the present Memoir has derived his origin. 



Whether the family of the Clarices were of Norman extrac- 
tion cannot be easily ascertained. If it even were so, it is 
pretty evident that it did not come in with William the Con- 
queror ; as no such name exists in any copy of the Roll of 
Battle Abbey, (several of which have been searched for this 
purpose.) on which roll was entered all the names of the nobi- 
lity and distinguished families that accompanied William in 
his first expedition ; or who afterwards came over and settled 
in England. 

It is well known that clericusvro.s originally the name of an 
office, and signified the clerk or learned man, who in primitive 
times, was the only person in his district who could write 
and read, or had taken pains to cultivate his mind in such 
literature as the times afforded, and, from his knowledge and 
skill, could be useful to his fellow citizens : and who, in con- 
sequence, did not fail to accumulate respectable property, 
which was maintained and increased in the family ; one of 
the descendants, generally the eldest son, being brought up 
to literature, and thus succeeding to the office of his father, 
and the emolument of that office. This title, in process of 
time, became the surname of the person who bore the office; 
and clericus, le clerc, the clerk, and afterwards Clarke, became 
the cognomen, or surname, by which all the descendants of 
the family were distinguished. As those persons who were 
designed for ecclesiastical functions generally got an educa- 
tion superior to the rest of the community, hence they were 
termed clerici, clerks ; and this is the legal title by which 
every clergyman is distinguished to the present day. 

It has been intimated that the term clericus, the clerk, was 
originally given to the person who was the only one in his 
district that could write and read. This may seem a strange 
insinuation m the nineteenth century, when every child 
amoug the millions in England can read ; and almost every 
grown up person can write. But it was not. so in ancient 
times : can the reader believe that that there was a period 
when some of our own British kings could not write their 
own name ! It is nevertheless a fact. About A. D. 700, 
Withred was king of Kent. He issued an ordinance, or 
Charter of Liberties, freeing all the churches under his 
dominion from tribute and taxation. This charter is found in 
the Archives of the Cathedral of Canterbury, and is published 
by Wilkins in his Concilia, vol, i. p. 63, and concludes in this 
remarkable manner : — 



THE LIFE OP ADAM CLARKE. 



39 



u Actum die sexto Aprilis, anno regni nostri octavo : In- 
dictione duodecima, in loco qui appellator Cilling. 

" Ego Wythredus, rex Cantiai, ha } c omnia supra scripta et 
conjirmavi, atque a me dictaia ; propria manu signum sane- 
tee cruris, pro ignorantia literarum expressi " 

"Done the sixth day of April, [A. D. 700,] in the eighth 
year of our reign : Indiction xii., in the place called Killing. 

" I Withred, king of Kent, have confirmed the above liber- 
ties, dictated by myself ; and because I am unlearned, \_L e. 
cannot write,] I have, with my own hand, signed this with 
the sign of the holy cross »J«." 

This was not only a common case in those times, but in 
times later by some centuries. Many of the ancient charters 
are signed with crosses, and this was often because those who 
subscribed could not write. It is doubtful whether William 
the Conqueror, or any of his sons, except Henry, could write. 
The foundation charter of Battle Abbey has thirteen signa- 
tures to it : they are all crosses, each different, and all the 
names are written by the same scribe, but each cross is made 
by the person to whose name it is affixed: through a kind of 
complaisance, those who cculd write signed with a cross, to 
keep the king and nobles in countenance. Of this ignorance 
it would be easy to multiply instances. 

In an ancient record, called the Boldon Book, which con- 
tains a census and survey of the whole bishoprick and pala- 
tinate of Durham, after the manner of Domesday Book, made 
by Bishop Hugh de Puteaco, or Pudsey, A. D. 1183, we 
find many ^proofs of men being distinguished by their offices, 
trades, &c, and the following instance is remarkable : among 
many other persons who held lands in the township of Wol- 
syngam in that county, and who performed certain services 
to the lord for the lands they held, according to the ancient 
feudal system : we find the following entry : — 

Adamus Clericus, tenet triginta acras, et reddit unam 
marcam. " Adam the Clerk, (or Adam Clarke,) holds thirty 
acres of land, for which he pays annually one mark." 

Others plough and harrow, that is, employ so many days in 
ploughing and harrowing the bishop's lands, in the way of boon 
or annual rent. 

That the term is used as the name of an office here, is suffi- 
ciently evident from the names of office frequently occurring 
joined to the Christian names, to distinguish the persons who 
held those offices : e. g. : — 

Alanus Fullo, tenet unum t of him et cr of turn pro duobus 
solidis, et facit quatnor porcationes autumpno. " Allen the 
Fuller, holds one toft and one croft, for two shillings, and 
makes four porcations in autumn/' 

Aldredus Faber, xii. acr. et red. Hi. sol. "Aldred the 
Smith, holds twelve acres, for which he pays three shillings." 



THE LIFE OF ADAM CLARKE. 



Arnaldus Pistor, habet Cornesheved in excamb. de Fril- 
lesden, et red. xxiiii. sol. "Arnold the Baker, has Corn- 
sheved in exchange for Frillesden, and renders twenty-four 
shillings. 55 

Walterus Molendinarius, tenet ii. bov. et red. x. sol. de 
firm, et ii. sol. pro operat. suis. " Walter the Miller, holds 
two bovates of land, for which he pays ten shillings, and gives 
two shillings as a compensation for services." 

Hugo Punder, reddit pro unam acram xii. d. et unam 
toft, de vaslo. " Hugh the Pinder, (the man who keeps the 
pound or pinfold,) holds one acre, for which he gives one shil- 
ling : he has also one toft of common." 

Ferrarius the Smith ; Carpentarius the Carpenter ; Pis- 
carius the Fisher ; Firmarius the Farmer ; Gardinarius the 
Gardener, &c. &c. ; which were all names of office, became 
at last the surnames of whole families, throughout all their 
generations. See Domesday and Boldon Books, passim. 
The name of the father's office might easily be transferred to 
all his children, though not employed in the same business ; 
as Johannes filius Adami Clerici, "John the son of Adam the 
Clerk," would in a very few generations be, "John Clarke the 
son of Adam Clarke, 55 &c. Thus it may be conceived all sur- 
names originally rose which express office, trade, &c. as But- 
ler, Baker, Chamberlain, Carpenter, Carter, Cook, Smith, 
Merchant, Draper, Roper, Soaper, Fisher, Fowler, Foster, 
Slater, Farmer, Miller, Fuller ^ Taylor, Poynder, &c. : 
while others derived theirs from the places where they were 
bom, or the estate which they held ; as, Appleton, Abingdon, 
Aubigny, Castleton, Cheshire, Cornish, &c. 

Family distinctions were probably, at first, fortuitously ac- 
quired: so, the first Clarke might have been a self taught 
genius ; his love of literature and the profit he had acquired by 
it, would naturally excite him to bring up a child in the same 
way ; and emulation would induce others of the same name 
to continue a distinction, by which the family had acquired 
both honour and profit. Hence we find that this ancient family 
has been distinguished for many learned men ; and by several 
who have acquired no ordinary fame in all the walks of the 
republic of literature. While on this subject the reader 5 s in- 
dulgence is requested a little longer. 

The ancient history of the Romans, will cast some light 
on this subject of surnames. The Roman names are divided 
into four kinds. 1. Those of the Ingenui, or free-born. 2. 
Those of the Liberti, or freed-men ; and those of the Servi, or 
slaves. 3. The names of women. And, 4. the names of 
adopted persons. 

The Ingenui had three names. 1. The prjenomen, which 
they assumed when they put on the toga virilis, or manly 
gown: this answers to our Christian name. These prceno- 



THE LIFE OF ADAM CLARKE. 



41 



mina were usually signified by initial letters, as is frequently 
the case among us: thus A. signified Aldus: C. Cains; D. 
Decius : K. Cceso: L. Lucius: M. Marcius, and Marcus: 
N. Numerius : P. Publius : Q,. Quintus : T. Titus: &c. 
Sometimes this was signified by double and fre&Ze letters, thus: 
AP. Appius: CN. Cneius : SP. Spur i us : TI. Tiberius: 
MAM. Mamercus : SER. Servius: SEX. Sextus : &c. 

2. The n omen j which immediately followed the prcenomen, 
answering to the Grecian patronymic, ox family name, ending 
mostly in iws : as Julius, Tullius, i. e. of Julius, of Tullius. 
Such a person of the Julian family, of the Tullian family, 
&c. 

3. The cognomen, which was added for the distinction of 
families ; and was usually derived from some country, acci- 
dent, or particular occurrence, and this divided the family into 
branches: as Agrippa, Ccesar, Cicero, &c. A fourth name 
was sometimes added, called agnomen, which was given as 
a title of honor: as Cato was termed Sapiens, the wise; 
Crassus, Dives, the rich ; and hence came the Africani, Asi- 
atici, Macedonici, &c. . But these by some of the best writers 
are termed cognomina, and therefore the distinction is not 
necessary ; agnomen and cognomen may be considered as 
implying the same, for they are indifferently used. 

The ingenui were the same among the Romans as gentle- 
men among us ; and they define them thus : — Qui inter se eo~ 
dem sunt nomine, ab ingenuis oriundi, quorum ma jorum 
nemo scrvitutem servivit, et qui Capite diminuti non sunt. 
"Those who have a certain family name, were born of free- 
men, whose ancestors were never in servitude, and who have 
never been degraded from their kindred or ancient stock." 

Though it has not been found that any branch of the family 
of the Clarkes claimed nobility, yet it has always appeared 
that the character of gentility, — generosi, or ingenui, — has 
been conceded to them, and to them the Roman definition of 
ingenui, is in every respect applicable. They came from a 
pure and ancient stock, they had never been in bondage to any 
man, had never been legally disgraced, and never forfeited 
their character. In this family I have often heard the inno- 
cent boast, None of our family has ever served the stranger. 

The family was originally English, but from what branch of 
the family, or from what county in England the subject of 
this Memoir descended, has not been satisfactorily deduced. 
The family tradition is, that they went over to Ireland in the 
17th century, and had part of what were called the Debenture 
Lands, and settled in the county of Antrim, about Lame, 
Glenarm, and Grange, where they had considerable estates. 
They became matrimonially connected with the Higgisons, 
Strawbridges, Courtenays, and Boyds ; the latter of whom 
deduce their origin in uninterrupted descent from the cele- 



42 



FAMILY OF THE CLARKE^. 



brated Boyds of Kilmarnock in Scotland : some of the Boyds, 
in virtue of the above alliance, still possess a considerable 
landed property in the above country. Some of the Mac Au- 
leys married into this family, but changed their names to 
Boyd, in order to inherit the paternal estates. One of these, 
the late Hugh Mac Aidey Boyd, Esq., sent in 1784, ambassa- 
dor to the Court of Candy, by Lord Macartney, Governor 
General of India, (reputed by some as the author of that still 
celebrated political work, called the Letters of Junius,) has 
left & son, Hugh Stuart Boyd, who is equal in elegant ac- 
complishments to his father, and his superior in classic at- 
tainments ; and especially in his profound knowledge of the 
Greek language, and the most illustrious writers of antiquity. 
He possesses a part of these estates, extending to, and com- 
prehending Red Bay near Glenarm.* 

* The following two letters from Dr. Clarke, dated Dublin, June 
15, and 26, 1823, will throw some more light upon the subject of the 
Clarke family. 

I came in here last night, after a hard journey of several days : from 
Glasgow to Belfast we were twenty-three hours and a half, in which 
we encountered a violent storm, and had the wind right a-head the 
whole passage. I went to see my aunt M l Ready, which took me one 
hundred miles out of my way, and at very considerable expense. 
However, I knew it must be the last opportunity I could ever have of 
seeing her, and making the inquiries you wished. I found her in com- 
paratively good health, and all her faculties as sound as a bell. I set 
about the inquiries ; and the following is the result. 

My father John Clarke, was son to William Clarke, who was 
son to John Clarke, who was son to "William Clarke. She can go 
no higher ; and this is to my great-great- grandfather. Now for par- 
ticulars. 

1. My great- great-grandfather William Clarke, was an estated 
gentleman of Grange, in the county of Antrim, and was appointed in 
1690 to receive the Prince of Orange, when he came to Carrickfergus. 
He had received the principles of George Fox, and, as he could not 
uncover his head to any man, before he came near to the prince, he 
took off his hat and laid it on a stone by the wayside, and walked for- 
ward. When he met the prince, he accosted him thus: "William, 
thou art welcome to this kingdom." — " I thank you, sir," replied the 
prince ; and the interview was so satisfactory to the prince, that he 
said, " You are, sir, the best bred gentleman I have ever met." 

2. John, my greatgrandfather, the son of William the Quaker, 

married Miss Anne Horseman, daughter to Horseman, mayor of 

Carrickfergus, whose son succeeded to the mayoralty thirty years 
afterwards. Of the year in which Mr. Horseman, the father, who 
married Miss Anne Clarke, was mayor, she cannot tell ; but this may 
be easily ascertained by searching the records of that city and fortress. 
To John, my great-grandfather, and Miss Horseman, were born 
eighteen sons and one daughter. The daughter, Sarah, was mar- 
ried to a Mr. Williamson, of the county Antrim ; — I suppose an es- 
tated gentleman, but she does not recollect to have heard any particu- 
lars of him or his family. 



FAMILY OF THE CLARKES. 



43 



William, the grandfather of Adam Clarke, married into the 
Boyd family ; he was an intelligent religious man, a builder 
by trade, and the eldest of six brothers, who chiefly settled in 
the vicinity of Maghera, Magherafelt, and near the borders of 
the beautiful lake of Lough Neagh. The youngest of these 

Of the eighteen sons of John, and Anne Horseman, she remembers 
only nine. They are the following : 

1. Samuel Clarke, of Gulladuff, (his own estate,) who married 
Miss M'Peake, who had issue John and Thomas, of the same place, 
and several daughters. 

2. Anthony Clarke, of Ballymff, (his own estate,) who had issue 
Anthony, who had issue. 

3. Joseph Clarke, who chose a military life, and was killed with 
General "Wolfe, at the battle of Gluebec ; he had issue John ; farther 
unknown. 

4. Robert Clarke, of Ballyruff, (his own estate,) who had married 
Miss Burnet, and had issue Alexander, &c. &c. 

5. Walter Clarke, of Ballyruff, who had several daughters, of 
whom I have no particulars. 

6. John Clarke, a farmer, of whom I find nothing. 

7. Richard Clarke, captain of a ship, and died in the Bloody Islands. 
Query — which were they 1 

8. Horseman Clarke. He and several others having pursued a mad 
dog, and killed him, one of the company, in sport, took the dog by the 
legs and hit some of the others with him, among the rest Horseman, 
against whose neck some of the, foam was spattered, and, he died of 
hydrophobia in three days ; as he was a young lad, he was not usually 
counted in the number of the sons, who were called the " seventeen 
sons." because so many grew up to man's estate. 

9. William Clarke, my grandfather, who married Miss Boyd, and 
who had issue John, my father, Archibald, William, and Adam, after 
whom I was named, and who, as I found now on his stone in Kilchro- 
naghan church, "died in August, 1756." There were two daughters, 
Anne, who married Mr. Wollock M'Kracken; and Mary, who mar- 
ried Mr. Alexander M' Ready. 

Archibald Boyd, my great great maternal grandfather, was a Presby- 
terian clergyman, and the first who preached as Protestant, in Maghera, 
after the Revolution in 1688. He married Miss Catharine Straw- 
bridge, a Scotch lady. Mr. Boyd's sister, married the Rev. Mr. Hig- 
gison, rector of Larne, in whose family that rectory still continues. 
Of the rest of this family I think you have Adam Boyd's own 
account. 

The above are all the particulars I could gain from this interview, 
and I think all the leading ones that can be obtained ; and we were all 
surprised at the amazing accuracy and precision of my aunt's me- 
mory, she did not falter in the least ; and still gave the same account 
in the same words. 

Dublin, June 26, 1823. 
Since I wrote the enclosed letter, which was early this morning, I 
have received yours of the 19th. From the state of the country you 
will see that I can make no more excursions ; and therefore, I suppose 
all farther communications from my aunt must be given up. It is 
well that we have saved so much ; I can tell you that " Gabriel, or, as 



44 



FAMILY OF THE CLARKES. 



brothers chose a military life, and was slain with his general, 
the celebrated Wolfe, at the battle of Quebec, Oct. 18, A. D. 
1759. 

John, the eldest son of William, and father of Adam, was 
intended by his father for the Church, and in consequence got 
a good classical education, which having finished, he studied 
successively at Edinburgh and Glasgow, where he proceeded 
M. A., and afterwards entered as a Sizer in Trinity College, 
Dublin ; at a time when classical merit alone could gain such 
an admission. His stay here was but short ; a severe fever, 

he is called in the family, Geby Clarke, was one of our ancestors, and 
lost the Grange Estates, by the absence of one witness, who was the 
only one who could attest a certain marriage." This information I 
had accidentally from a woman in Belfast, who saw me standing at 
the coach-office door, waiting for the clerk, in order to take my place 
for Dublin. She came up to me and told me she was one of my rela- 
tives, mentioned Samson Clarke of Belfast, who I believe was her 
father or uncle ; and mentioned Geby, as being famous in the family. 
I might have had much from this woman, but not knowing her, and it 
being in the street, I did not encourage her to talk ; I know not who 
she is : but I knew Samson Clarke of Belfast, he has been dead only 
about 10 years. I send you the minutes which Mary took while Aunt 
and I were conversing : there I find Samuel marked as the eldest of 
my granduncles, but whether older than William his brother, and my 
grandfather, I do not know — I always thought my grandfather Clarke 
the oldest. I believe all the others come in, in the order mentioned by 
Mary and myself ; but I know my aunt expressed herself uncertain 
concerning the, priority of some of them. 

So far as I can find, the estates at Grange, were lost to our family, 
in consequence of the failure of & proof of marriage, in Geby's case ; 
from which I am led to think, that those estates came by marriage, and 
that they were not inheritances of the Clarke family : but there were 
several other estates, besides those, and there are some now, in the 
hands of some of my granduncles' sons. 

If one had about a fortnight or a month to ride about the countries 
I have been in, he might make more out ; but every branch of the 
family, knowing that they are wrongfully kept out of their estates, are 
full of jealousy, when you make any of those inquiries, thinking that 
you are about to possess yourself of their property ! On this very 
ground, I have been very cautious in all my inquiries. I think I have 
heard of a Christopher, 1 am sure of a Bartlemy in the family, and 
Gabriel. I do not recollect to have heard of a Francis or Silvester, 
but doubtless my aunt could tell. I will send the questions to cousin 
Allic, and let him get me what information he can, but little can be 
had but on the spot, and I scarcely know how to get a letter direct to 
him, it is such an out of the way place. I asked my aunt particularly, 
if she knew any one before William the Quaker ; she said she did not, 
so he is the utmost a priori, and she herself is the hindmost a poste- 
riori, except our own family. About coming originally from Eng- 
land, and receiving some of the Debenture Lands, I have heard my 
father often speak, but I know no circumstances. Tomorrow I begin 
the Conference, and shall have no moment till it be concluded ; and 
then 1 must march back. 



FAMILY OF THE CLARKE3. 



45 



and afterwards a premature marriage, terminated his studies, 
and blasted his prospects in the Church : and, although the 
latter step put him in possession of a woman, who made him 
one of the best and most affectionate of wives, yet an increase 
of family, and the uncertainty of any adequate ecclesiastical 
provision, caused him to adopt the creditable though gainless 
profession of a public parish schoolmaster ; to which he was 
regularly licensed, according to the custom that then prevai - 
ed, in order to ensure a Protestant education to the youth ci 
the country, and prevent the spread of Popish principles. By 
virtue of such license, all teachers in the parish had their 
nomination from the master ; and without such could not 
legally perform the function of public teachers. 

Before I proceed m this narrative, it may be necessary to 
state that Mrs. Clarke, was a descendant of the Mac Leans, 
of Mull; one of the Hebrides, or western isles of Scotland: 
and her great grandfather Laughlin More Mac Lean, called by 
others Neil, who was chief of his Clan and Laird of Dowart, 
lost his life, as did twenty of his nearest relatives and his own 
son, in a battle with the clan Mac Donald, in September, 1598. 
But their deaths were shortly after revenged by Eachin, or 
Hector Oig, his son and successor ; who in a pitched battle 
defeated the Mac Donalds, and thus terminated all feuds be- 
tween these two clans.* 

Shortly after Mr. John Clarke's marriage, a circumstance oc- 
curred which had an embarrassing effect upon himself and 
family during his life. About the year 1758 or 1759, the rage 
of emigration to America was very prevalent in Ireland. 
Heavy taxation, oppressive landlords, and the small encourage- 
ment held out either to genius or industry, rendered Ireland, 
though perhaps on the whole, one of the finest islands in the 
universe, no eligible place for men of talents of any kind, 
howsoever directed and applied, to hope for an adequate pro- 
vision or decent independence for a rising family. 

America, thin in her population and extensive in her terri- 
tory, held out promises of easily acquired property, immense 
gains by commerce, and lures of every description, to induce 
the ill provided for, and dissatisfied inhabitants of the mother 
country to carry their persons and property thither, that by 
their activity and industry they might enrich this rising and 
even then ambitious state. Mr. Clarke was persuaded among 
many others to indulge these golden hopes, with the expecta- 

* In the Diary of Robert Birrel, this feud is thus mentioned: 
" About yis tyme," (between Aug. 3, and Oct. 23, 1598,) " Neil 
M'Lane slaine, and twentie of hes narrest freindis, and hes awen 
sone be M'Connel, yai being at ane tryst under trust." That is, they 
had engaged under a particular penalty to fight this battle. See Frag- 
ments of Scottish History, Edinb. 1798, 4to. p. 47, of the above men- 
tioned Diary. 



FAMILY OF THE CLARKES. 



tion, if not the promise, of a Professorship in one of the 
nascent, or about to be erected universities in the new world. 
In an evil hour he broke up his establishment, sold his property, 
and with his wife and an infant son, went to the port and city 
of Londonderry, and took their passage in one of these mer- 
chant transport vessels then so numerous, bound for the 
United States. 

At that time, and for many years after, this rage for emigra- 
tion, was so great, that many young men, women, and whole 
families, artificers and husbandmen, who were not able to de- 
fray the expenses- of their own passage, were encouraged by 
the ship-owners to embark, the owners providing them with 
the most miserable necessaries of life for their passage, and 
throwing them together like slaves in a Guinea ship, on the 
middle passage ; they went bound, as it was called, — the cap- 
tain .having the privilege of selling them for five or seven 
years, to the trans-atlantic planters, to repay the expenses of 
their passage and maintenance ! A supine and culpable go- 
vernment, which never sufficiently interested itself for the wel- 
fare of this excellent Island, and its hardy and vigorous inha- 
bitants, suffered this counterpart to the execrable West India 
Slave Trade, to exert its most baneful and degrading influence, 
among its own children, without reprehension or control ; and 
thus, many of its best and most useful subjects were carried 
away to people states, which, in consequence, became their 
rivals, and since that time, their most formidable enemies. 

Among these, as we have already seen, Mr. J. Clarke, his 
wife, and infant son, had embarked, and were on the eve of 
sailing, when Mr. Clarke's father arrived from the country, 
went on board, expostulated with his son, and by the influence 
of tears and entreaties, enforced by no small degree of paren- 
tal tenderness, and duly tempered with authority, prevailed on 
him to change his purpose, to forfeit his passage, and to return 
with him to the country. 

Whether this, on the whole, was the best thing that could 
be done in such circumstances, is hard to. say. What would 
have been the result had he gone to America, we cannot tell : 
what was the result of his return, the following pages will in 
some measure show. The immediate effects were however, 
nearly ruinous to the family and its prospects. 

There is a tide in the affairs o'f men, 
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune : 
Omitted ; all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.' 5 

The " Shallows and Miseries'' in which Mr. Clarke was 
bound, almost through life, proved that he omitted to take the 
tide at flood. 

We have already observed that, in order to go to the conti- 



adam clarke's birth, etc. 



47 



nent of America, he had broken up his establishment, and con- 
verted his property into cash. Much time, and not a little of 
this property, had been spent in preparations for their voyage, 
and expected settlement in a strange country : but he found, 
to his cost, on his return, that it was much easier to unsettle 
than to establish. He was undetermined for a considerable 
time what mode of life was most eligible, for many projects ap- 
peared fair at a distance, which, on a nearer approach, eluded 
the grasp of his expectation ; and others, if well-digested and 
cautiously and perseveringly pursued, promising honor and 
wealth, resembled the horizon which ever appears at the same 
distance to the traveller, though he have already passed over 
some thousands of miles in order to reach it. Thus, 

" Disappointment laughed at hope's career," 

till his remaining property was expended, and alternately 
elated and depressed with promises and disappointments, he 
was obliged to begin the world anew, equally destitute of ad- 
vantages and means. In this state of things, nothing presented 
itself to him but a choice of difficulties : friends and internal re- 
sources, had equally failed ; and he went and settled in an 
obscure village called Moybeg, township of Cootinaglugg, in 
the parish of Kilchronaghan, in the barony of Loughinshallin, 
in the county of Londonderry. In this obscure district, the 
names of wnich almost bid defiance to enunciation, his second 
son Adam, the subject of this Memoir, was born, either in the 
year 1760 or 1762, most probably the former, but neither the 
year nor the month can be ascertained. He was baptized in 
the parish church by his uncle, the Rev. John Tracy, the Rec- 
tor, who had married his mother's sister. On application to 
the late worthy incumbent, the Rev. Mr. Bryan, to obtain a 
copy of the baptismal register, the following answer has been 
obtained : — " The archives of the church have been carefully 
searched, but no register during Mr. Tracy's incumbency has 
been found ; none having been kept during that period j or if 
kept, since irrecoverably lost." 

As Mr. Tracy died sometime between 1760 and 1762, and 
Adam Clarke was baptized by him, he must have been born 
within that period. The clay and month are as, uncertain as 
the year, only I have understood it was sometime in the spring. 

At the request of his grandfather and grandmother Clarke, he 
was named Adam, in memory of a beloved son, who had died 
of the small pox, when only six years of age ; and they engaged 
that, as soon as he could walk alone, they would take him as 
their own, and be at the whole charge of his education. 

It may not be improper to say a few words here of his bro- 
ther, who was born about three years before him. He was 
called Tracy, at the instance of his uncle the Rev. J. Tracy, 
already mentioned ; who, having no child, promised to be at the 



41 



ADAM CLARKE ? 3 ONLY BROTHER. 



expense of his education. &c. Such promises are rarely ful- 
filled ; but this pledge would probably have been redeemed, had 
Mr. Tracy lived, for he had already taken the child to his own 
house, but dying shortly after, the young lad, already spoiled 
by indulgence, was restored to his parents. 

His father gave him a classical education, and when but a 
young man, he was appointed and licensed by the Consistorial 
Court of Deny, a schoolmaster, in a parish contiguous to that 
in which his father had a similar appointment, (see p. 45.) 
Getting weary of this mode of life, which held out but faint 
promises of comfort or emolument, he expressed a strong de- 
sire to study medicine, to which he had in some measure al- 
ready directed his attention. His parents consented, and he 
was bound apprentice to Mr. Pollock, a surgeon and apothe- 
cary in the town of Magherafelt, — a gentleman equalled by 
few in his profession, for various and sound learning, much 
skill and deserved eminence in the practice of medicine; and 
a mind highly cultivated by his classical attainments, and. by 
every solid principle of politeness or good breeding. Having 
terminated his apprenticeship with credit to himself and his 
master, he went to Dublin, and studied anatomy under the 
celebrated Dr. Cleghorne, who was professor of that science 
in Trinity College. 

Having received letters of recommendation to some mer- 
chants in Liverpool, whose interest he hoped would obtain 
him an appointment in the Navy, he sailed for England. 

This expectation however failed, and he went out surgeon 
in a Guinea ship, made their voyage, laid in 813 negroes, 
who were exchanged to them for guns, gunpowder, knives, 
and trinkets of different kinds, and sold in Tortola to the 
highest bidder, as sheep or oxen in the open market. He 
went a second voyage, kept a journal of the way, in which 
he made entries of all particulars relative to the mode of pro- 
curing, treating, and disposing of the slaves ; with several 
other matters of high importance, relative to this inhuman and 
infernal traffic. The captain noticing this, pretended one day 
to have lost some plate, all the vessel must be searched, the 
seamen first, then all the officers were requested to give up 
their keys, with an apology that no suspicion attached to 
them, but merely for form's sake, lest there might be any 
ground left for the charge of partiality \ &c. Surgeon Clarke 
immediately yielded his key. which was restored after some 
time ; but when he next visited his chest he found that his 
Journal had been rifled, and every leaf and page that con- 
tained anything relative to the traffic, torn out, or mutilated, 
so that from this documen:, not one entry was left, nor could 
be produced in evidence against this infamous traffic, and the 
diabolical manner in which it was carried on. This mutilated 
Journal I have seen and examined ; and was informed of se- 



ADAM CLARKE'S ONLY BROTHER. 



49 



veral curious particulars by the Writer, some of which I shall 
take the liberty to relate. 

When at Bonny in Africa, Surgeon Clarke had gone a good 
deal on shore, and travelled some way into the country, and 
as he was a man of pleasing manners, and amiable carriage, he 
gained the confidence of the natives, accommodated himself to 
their mode of living, and thus had the opportunity of making 
several valuable remarks on their civil and religious customs. 
From observing the males to be universally circumcised, he 
was led to think that this people might be descendants of the 
ten lost Jewish Tribes. He observed farther, that each of 
their huts was divided into three apartments ; one served to 
dress their food in, one as a place of repose, and the third was 
for the Juju, the serpent god, which was the object of their 
worship. Thus every hut had its Temple, and every Tem- 
ple had its Altar and worshippers. 

He has informed me that, from the bodies of many of the 
slaves that were brought from the interior to the coast, he 
was obliged to extract balls, as they had been wounded in 
the attempts to deprive them of their liberty ; their kidnap- 
pers hunting them down like wild beasts, firing upon all they 
could not suddenly seize, no doubt killing many, and bringing 
those down to the coast, whose wounds were of such a nature 
as to promise an easy cure. In his excursions into the coun- 
try, he has seen the wives of the chiefs, king Peppel, and king 
Norfolk, as they were called, going out to the plantations to 
labour, their young children, (princes and princesses,) on 
their naked backs, holding themselves on by their hands, 
grasping the shoulders of their mothers, and when arrived in 
the field, laid down on the bare ground naked, and when 
weary of lying on one side, turn on the other, without ever 
uttering a cry ; their mothers giving them the breast at such 
intervals as they deemed proper. The following instances of 
inhumanity, from among many others, I shall select for the 
Reader's reflections. A stout young negress, with an infant 
at her breast, was brought on board, and presented to the cap- 
tain by one of the black dealers, who by long trafficking in 
flesh and blood with the inhuman European slave-dealers, had 
acquired all their unfeeling brutality. The captain refused 
to purchase her, saying " He could not be troubled with chil- 
dren aboard." The dealer answered, " Why massa is she 
no good slave ? is she no able work ?" " Yes," answered the 
captain, " she would do well enough, but I cannot receive 
children." " Well massa, would massa buy slave if she no 
had child ?" " Yes," said the captain, " I should have no ob- 
jection to her." On this the black dealer stepped up to the 
woman, snatched the child out of her arms, and threw it 
overboard ; on which the captain without expressing the least 
concern, purchased the mother. I should add, what will per- 
5 



50 



adam Clarke's only brother. 



haps relieve the Reader's feelings, though it will not remove 
his honest indignation, that a negro seeing the child thrown 
overboard, paddled to the place with his canoe, jumped in 
after it, and brought it up apparently alive, and immediately 
made towards the shore. 

This captain carried brutality and ferocity as far as they 
could go ; even his own interest yielded to his cruelty. Du- 
ring this passage several of the negroes got into what is tech- 
nically called the sulks; i. e. they refused to eat; and fore- 
seeing their misery, chose to starve themselves to death, ra- 
ther than encounter it : one in particular, could not be induced 
by any threats or inflicted punishments, to take his food. 
The captain beat him in the most inhuman manner with a 
small cutting whip ; but without a sigh or a groan he obsti- 
nately persisted. Boiled beans were one day brought and 
they endeavoured to induce him to eat : he closed his teeth in 
determinate opposition. The captain got a piece of iron, 
prized open his jaws, and broke several of his teeth in the 
operation, he then stuffed his mouth full of the aliment, and 
with the butt end of his whip endeavoured to thrust it down 
his throat, he was instantly suffocated: and the fiend his 

murderer, said on perceiving it. " See, d them, they can 

die whenever they please." 

He drove the second mate overboard, broke the arm of the 
cabin boy, with the stroke of an iron ladle, and committed all 
kinds of barbarous excesses. 

One day when companies of the slaves were brought upon 
deck for the sake of fresh air, and an iron chain was passed 
through their fetters, and then bolted to the deck ; it happened 
that a negro got his feet out of his fetters, and stealing softly 
till he got to the bowsprit, then, in order to attract the attention 
of his tormentors, he set up a wild loud laugh ; as soon as he 
found he was observed, he leaped into the deep, and sunk to 
rise no more. The captain instantly seized his musket loaded 
with ball, and fired down in the place in which he sunk, that 
he might have the pleasure of killing him before he could be 
drowned. These were but parts of his ways, but I shall for- 
bear to harrow up the blood of the Reader any longer : such 
cruelties are almost necessarily connected with a traffic cursed 
of God, and abhorred by man ; and although the trade is abo- 
lished by our legislature, yet let them not suppose that the blood 
of it is purged away. As a nation, our reckoning is not yet 
settled for the wrongs of Africa. 

It will not surprise the reader to hear that this captain lost 
his vessel in returning from the West Indies, and afterwards 
died in the workhouse in Liverpool. 

Filled with horror at this inhuman traffic, Surgeon Clarke 
abandoned it after this second voyage : he married and esta- 
blished himself at a place called Maghull, about eight miles 



adam clarke's childhood. 



5i 



from Liverpool, where for many years he had an extensive 
practice, and was remarkably successful. He died there in 
1802, universally respected and regretted, leaving four sons 
and one daughter behind him. These young men were brought 
up principally under the direction of their uncle Adam ; two 
embraced the medical profession, one of whom has been sur- 
geon in his Majesty's navy for about twelve years, and has 
seen the most dangerous service. The oldest, a young man 
of singular habits, much learning and a comprehensive mind, 
is author of a work of deep research, entitled An Exposition 
of the False Prophet, and the Number of the Apocalyptic 
Beast. They are all worthy of their amiable father, and re- 
pay the pains taken in their education by their uncle. 

But it is now time to return to the principal subject of these 
Memoirs, whom we have yet seen only on the threshold of 
life. 

In the life of an infant there can be little of an interesting 
nature ; yet there were a few things so singular as to be wor- 
thy of remark. His brother we have seen, by the manner of 
his education, was through the indulgence of a fond uncle 
nearly spoiled : and indeed he was so softened by this inju- 
dicious treatment, that it produced an unfavourable effect 
throughout life ; being the first-born and a fine child he was 
the favourite, especially of his mother. Adam, on the other 
hand, met with little indulgence, was comparatively neglected, 
nursed with little care, and often left to make the best of his 
own course. He was no spoiled child, was always corrected 
when he deserved it ; and sometimes when but a small degree 
of blame attached to his undirected conduct. Through this 
mode of bringing up, he became uncommonly hardy, was un- 
usually patient of cold, took to his feet at eight months ; and 
before he was nine months old, was accustomed to walk with- 
out guide or attendant in a field before his father's door ! He 
was remarkably fond of snmv ; when he could little more 
than lisp he called it his brother, saw it fall with rapturous 
delight ; and when he knew that much of it lay upon the 
ground, would steal out of his bed early in the morning, with 
nothing on but his shirt, get a little board, go out, and with it 
dig holes in the snow, call them rooms, and when he had fin- 
ished his frozen apartments, sit down naked as he was, and 
thus most contentedly enjoy the fruit of his own labour! 

Though by no means a lusty child, he had uncommon 
strength for his age, and his father often took pleasure in set- 
ting him to roll large stones, when neighbours or visitants 
came to the house. 

Many of the relatives of A. C. on both sides the house, 
were remarkable for vast muscular powers. One of his ma* 
ternal uncles, the Rev. I. M'Lean, a Clergyman, possessed in- 
credible strength, which he "often used, not in the best of causes. 



52 



FAMILY PECULIARITIES. 



He could bend iron bars with a stroke of his arm ; roll up large 
pewter dishes like a scroll with his fingers ; and when travel- 
ling through Bovagh wood, a place through which his walks 
frequently lay, he has been known to pull down the top of an 
oak-sapling, twist it into a withe by the mere strength of his 
arms and fingers, and thus working it down in a spiral form to 
the earth, leave it with its root in the ground, for the astonish- 
ment of all that might pass by. 

One day dining at an inn with two officers, who, perhaps, 
unluckily for themselves, wished to be witty at the parson's 
expense ; he said something which had a tendency to lessen 
their self-confidence. One of them considering his honour 
touched, said, " Sir, were it not for your cloth, I would oblige 
you to eat the words you have spoken." Mr. M c Lean rose up 
in a moment, took off his coat, rolled it up in a bundle and 
threw it under the table, with these fearful words ; " Divinity 
lie thou there, and M'Lean do for thyself !" So saying, he seiz- 
ed the foremost of the heroes by the cuff of the neck and by 
the waistband of the breeches, and dashed him through the 
strong sash-window of the apartment, a considerable way on 
the opposite pavement of the street ! Such was the projectile 
violence, that the poor officer passed through the sash as if it 
had been a cobweb. 

Both extremes met in this family ; a sister of this same gen- 
tleman, one of A. C.'s maternal aunts, was only three feet 
high, and died about her thirtieth year. Thus Nature was as 
parsimonious in the one case as she was profuse in the other : 
yet there was another aunt in the family, who had more mus- 
cular power than most common men. 

That district might be said to be the land of strong and gi- 
gantic men. There was born and bred Bob Dunbar, famous 
lor his lawless and brutal strength. In the same barony, if 
not in the same township, were born of ordinary parents, 01 the 
name of Knight, two brothers, each of whom stood seven and 
a half feet high. It was a curious sight to see these two young 
men (who generally went in plain scarlet coats) walking 
through a fair, in Magherafelt, as they generally stood head 
and shoulders above the thousands there assembled. 

In the same township, Moneymore, was the celebrated 
Charles Burns bora. He was a young man, and so were the 
Knights, when A. C. was a lad at school. Charles Burns was 
well proportioned, and measured eight feet six inches! In 
short, all the people in that country are among either the tallest, 
the hardiest, or the strongest in Europe. 

Adam Clarke has been frequently known to thank God for 
the hardy manner in which he was brought up ; and to say, 
" My heavenly Father saw that I was likely to meet with many 
rude blasts in journeying through life, and he prepared me in 
infancy for the lot nis providence destined for me : so that 



adam clarke ? s childhood. 



53 



through his mercy I have been enabled to carry a profitable 
childhood up to hoary hairs." He would add, " He knew that 
I must walk alone through life, and therefore set me on my feet 
right early, that I might be prepared by long practice for the 
work I was appointed to perform." 

It has already been observed that his grand parents promised 
to take him to themselves when he could be safely taken from 
under a mother's care. This they accordingly did ; but little 
Adam could ill brook confinement in the house by the side of 
his grandmother. He was accustomed to roam about the walls 
and hedges ; and there being a draw-well into which he was 
particularly fond of looking, when it was left uncovered ; his 
grandmother, fearing that he might some day fall in and be 
drowned, sent him home to his parents. 

He took the small-pox, when he was about five years old, 
in the natural way ; inoculation was then scarcely known, 
and the usual treatment was as follows : — the patient was 
covered up with a load of clothes in a warm bed, the curtains 
drawn close to keep off every breath of air, and some spiritu- 
ous liquors carefully given, in order to strike the pock out, as 
it was termed ! It is no wonder that such treatment of an 
inflammatory disorder carried thousands to an untimely grave. 
Adam was covered from head to foot with this disease, but no 
authority or power of parents, or attendants, could confine 
him to his bed. Whenever he found an opportunity he left 
his bed, and ran out naked into the open air. This he did 
frequently, in defiance of all custom and authority ; he was 
led to adopt the cool regimen, had a merciful termination of 
the disorder, and escaped without a single mark ! He has 
often been heard to say, "He perfectly remembered this time, 
and still retained a lively impression of the relief he found in 
this burning disease, by exposure to the open air, though he 
suffered much in walking, for even the soles of his feet were 
covered with pustules." 

This early recollection need not be wondered at ; his mem- 
ory seems to have been in exercise from his tenderest infancy ; 
for he has been known to relate circumstances to his mother, 
which he had in recollection, though she knew that they had 
taken place when probably he was only three years of age ! 

When he was about six years old, an occurrence took place 
which deserves to be circumstantially related. At this time 
his father lived at Maghera, where he kept a public school, 
both English and classical, and where he was tutor to the son 
of the Rev. Dr. Barnard, then Dean of Deny, and rector of 
Maghera, and afterwards successively Bishop of Kilaloe and 
Limerick. Near to where Mr. Clarke lived was a very de- 
cent orderly family, of the name of Brooks, who lived on a 
small farm. They had eleven children, some of whom went 
regularly to Mr. Clarke's school : one, called James, was the 



54 



EARLY IMPRESSIONS. 



tenth child, a lovely lad, between whom and little Adam there 

subsisted a most intimate friendship, and strong attachment. 
One day when walking hand in hand in a field near the house, 
they sat down on a bank and began to enter into very serious 
conversation: — they both became much affected, and this was 
deepened to exquisite distress by the following observations 
made by little Brooks. " O, Addy, Addy," said he, "what a 
dreadful thing is eternity, and, O, how dreadful to be put into 
hell fire and to be burnt there for ever and ever !" They both 
wept bitterly, and, as they could, begged God to forgive their 
sins ; and they made to each other strong promises of amend- 
ment. They wept till they were really sick, and departed 
from each other with full and pensive hearts ! 

In reviewing this circumstance, Adam has been heard to 
say : — " I was then truly and deeply convinced that I was a 
sinner, and that I was liable to eternal punishment ; and that 
nothing but the mercy of God could save me from it: though 
I was not so conscious of any other sin as that of disobedience 
to my parents, which at that time affected me most forcibly. 
When I left my little companion, I went home, told the whole 
to my mother with a full heart, expressing the hope that I should 
never more say any bad words, or refuse to do what she or my 
father might command. She was both surprised and affectea, 
and gave me much encouragement, and prayed heartily forme. 
With a glad heart she communicated the information to my 
father, on whom I could see it did not make the same impres- 
sion ; for he had little opinion of pious resolutions in childish 
minds, though he feared God, and was a serious conscientious 
churchman. I must own that the way in which he treated it 
was very discouraging to my mind, and served to mingle im- 
pressions with my serious feelings, that were not friendly to 
their permanence : yet the impression, though it grew faint, 
did not wear away. It was laid deep in the consideration of 
eternity; and my accountableness to God for my conduct; and 
the absolute necessity of enjoying his favour, that I might never 
taste the bitter pains of eternal death. Had I had any person 
to point out the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of 
the world, I believe I should then have been found as capable 
of repentance and faith, (my youth and circumstances consi- 
dered,) as I ever was afterwards. But I had no helper, l no 
messenger, one among a thousand, who could shew man his 
righteousness? " 

Though the place was divided between the Church and the 
Presbyterians, yet there was little even of the form of godliness, 
an d still less of the power. Nor indeed, were the people excited 
to examine the principles of their own creed, till many years 
after, when the Methodists came into that country, "preaching 
repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." 

As to his little companion, James Brooks, there was some- 



EARLY ANTIPATHIES. 



55 



thing singular in his history. It has already been noted that he 
was the tenth child of his parents, and that the Rector of the 
parish was the famous Dr. Barnard, deservedly celebrated 
among the literary friends of Dr. Samuel Johnson. 

Mrs. Brooks having gone to the dean's one morning, to pay 
her tithe, took little James in her hand: when she had laid 
down her money, she observed: — "Sir, you have annually the 
tenth of all I possess, except my children; it is but justice you 
should have the tenth of them also. I have eleven, and this is 
my tenth son, whom I have brought to you as the tithe of my 
children, as I have brought the tithe of my grain. I hope, 
Sir, you will take and provide for him." To this singular ad- 
dress, the dean found it difficult to reply. He could not, at 
first, suppose the woman to be in earnest : but on her urging 
her application, and almost insisting on his receiving this tenth 
of her intellectual live stock, both his benevolence and humanity 
were affected; — he immediately accepted the child, had him 
clothed, &c, let him lodge with the parents for a time, and 
sent him to school to Mr. John Clarke. In a short time Mr. 
C. removed from that part of the country ; and what became 
of the interesting young man is not known. He was always 
called Tithe by the school-boys. 

In some children, as well as grown-up persons, certain un- 
accountable sympathies and atipathies have been observed. 
Adam had a singular antipathy to large fat men, or men with 
big bellies, as he phrased it. 

A gentleman of the name of Pearce Quinlin, was his fa- 
ther's nearest neighbour: this man was remarkably corpulent; 
his eyes stood out with fatness, and his belly was enormously 
protuberant. With this gentleman Adam was a favorite, yet 
he ever beheld him with abhorrence; and could hardly be per- 
suaded to receive the little gifts which Mr. Q,. brought to obtain 
his friendship. The following circumstance rendered the dis- 
like more intense. — A dumb man, who pretended to tell for- 
tunes, called there a spae-man, came one day to his father's 
house. Mrs. Clarke, looked upon such persons with a favour- 
able eye, as it was her opinion, that if God in the course of 
his providence, deprived a man of one of his senses, he com- 
pensated this by either rendering the others more intense and 
accurate, or by some particular gift : and she thought, to most 
that were born dumb, a certain degree of foreknowledge was 
imparted. She was therefore, ready to entertain persons of 
this caste : and the man in question was much noted in that 
country, as having been remarkably fortunate in some of his 
guesses. Adam, who was conning the wizard's face with an 
eye of remarkable curiosity, was presented to him, to learn what 
was to be his lot in life. The artist, after beholding him for 
some time, gave signs that he would be very fond of the bot- 
tle, grow fat and have an enormous belly ! These were pre- 



56 



adam clarke's education 



cisely two of the things that he held in most abhorrence. 

He had often seen persons drunk, and he considered them as 
dangerous madmen, or the most brutish of beasts : and his 
dislike to the big belly has already been stated. He had even 
then a high opinion of the power and influence of prayer. 
He thought, that, the spae-man might possibly be correct : but 
he believed there was no evil awaiting him in futurity which 
God could not avert. He therefore went immediately out into 
a field, got into a thicket of furze-bushes, and kneeling down 
he most fervently uttered the following petition: — "O, Lord 
God, have mercy upon me, and never suffer me to be like 
Pearce Quinlin !" This he urged, with little variety of lan- 
guage, till he seemed to have a persuasion that the evil would 
be averted ! Strange as it may appear, this prediction left a 
deep impression upon his mind: and he has hitherto passed 
through life's pilgrimage, equally dreading the character of 
the brutal drunkard, and the appearance of the human por- 
poise. Had it not been for this foolish prediction, he had pos- 
sibly been less careful ; and what the effects might have been 
we cannot calculate, for no man is impeccable. 

There was little remarkable in other parts of his childhood, 
but that he was a very inapt scholar, and found it very difficult 
to acquire the knowledge of the Alphabet. For this dulness 
he was unmercifully censured and unseasonably chastised: 
and this, so far from eliciting genius, rather produced an in- 
crease of hebitude, so that himself began to despair of ever 
being able to acquire any knowledge by means of letters. 
When he was about eight years of age, he was led to enter- 
tain hopes of future improvement from the following circum- 
stance. A neighbouring schoolmaster calling at the school 
where he was then endeavouring to put vowels and consonants 
together ; was desired by the teacher to assist in hearing a 
few of the lads their lessons : Adam was the last that went 
up, not a little ashamed of his own deficiency : he however 
hobbled through his lesson, though m a very indifferent man- 
ner : and the teacher apologised to the stranger, and remarked 
that, that lad was a grievous dunce. The assistant, clapping 
young Clarke on the head, said, Never fear, Sir, this lad will 
make a good scholar yet. This was the first thing that check- 
ed his own despair of learning; and gave him hope. How 
injudicious is the general mode of dealing with those who are 
called dull boys. To every child learning must be a task ; 
and as no young person is able to comprehend the maxim that 
the acquisition of learning will compensate the toil, encou- 
ragement and kind words from the teacher, are indispensably 
necessary to induce the learner to undergo the toil of these 
gymnastic exercises. Wilful idleness and neglect should be 
reprehended and punished ; but where genius has not yet been 
developed, nor reason acquired its proper seat, the mildest 



AT SCHOOL. 



57 



methods are the most likely to be efficient ; and the smallest 
progress should be watched, and commended, that it may ex- 
cite to farther attention and diligence. With those who are 
called dull boys, this method rarely fails. 

But there are very few teachers who possess the happy art 
of developing genius. They have not a sufficiency of pene- 
tration to find out the bent or characteristic propensity of the 
minds of their pupils, in order to give them the requisite ex- 
citement and direction. In consequence, there have been 
innumerable native diamonds which have never shone, be- 
cause they have fallen into such hands as could not distinguish 
them from common pebbles ; and to them neither the hand nor 
the art of the lapidary, has ever been applied. Many children, 
not naturally dull, have become so under the influence of the 
schoolmaster. 

As soon as Adam got through the Beading made easy, had 
learnt to spell pretty correctly, and could read with tolerable 
ease in the New Testament; his father, who wished if possi- 
ble to make him a scholar, put him into Lilly 1 s Latin Gram- 
mar. This was new and painful work to little Clarke, and 
he was stumbled by almost the first sentence which he was 
ordered to get by heart ; not because he could not commit it to 
memory, but because he could not comprehend — 

" In speech be these eight parts following ; Noun, Pronoun, 
Verb, Participle, declined; Adverb, Conjunction, Preposi- 
tion, Interjection, undeclined." 

He, however, committed this to memory, and repeated it 
and many of its fellows, without understanding one tittle of 
the matter ; for no pains were taken to enable him to see the 
reason of those things which he was commanded to get by 
rote; and as the understanding was not instructed, the me- 
mory was uselessly burthened. 

The declensions of nouns were painful, but he overcame 
them: the conjugations of the verbs he got more easily 
through, because there he perceived a species of harmony or 
music, and they were no burthen to his memory ; though 
each verb was required to be conjugated after the manner of 
Hoole, yet he could pretty readily run through them all, and 
took delight to puzzle his school-fellows with difficult verbs, 
especially those which admitted great variety of inflection : 
e. g. Lavo, lavas, lavi, atque lavavi ; lavare, lavandi, lavan- 
do, lavandum ; lautum, lautu, lotum, lotu, atque lavatum, 
lavatu; lavans, lauturus, loturus, atque lavaturus. 

Propria quce maribus, he got through with difficulty, at two 
lines each lesson ; which he was to repeat, afterwards con- 
strue, and lastly parse. With the As in prcesenti, of the same 
ponderous grammar, he was puzzled beyond measure: he 
could not well understand the bo fit bi, do fit di, mo fit ui, no 
fit vi, quo fit qui, to fit ti, &c. &c, and could by no means pro 



58 



adam Clarke's education 



ceed : of the reason or probable utility of such things, he 
could form no adequate judgment : and at last this became so 
intolerable, that he employed two whole days and a part of 
the third, in fruitless endeavours to commit to memory two 
lines, with their construction, of what appeared to him, use- 
less and incomprehensible jargon. His distress was inde- 
scribable, and he watered his book with his tears : at last he 
laid it by, with a broken heart, and in utter despair of ever 
being able to make any progress. He took up an English 
Testament, sneaked into an English class, and rose with 
them to say a lesson. The master perceiving it, said in a 
terrific tone, " Sir, what brought you here? where is your 
Latin grammar?" He burst into tears, and said, with a 
piteous tone, / cannot learn it. He had now reason to expect 
all the severity of the rod : but the master, getting a little 
moderate, perhaps moved by his tears, contented himself with 
saying " Go, Sirrah, and take up your grammar : if you do 
not speedily get that lesson, I shall pull your ears as long as 
Joxclefs, (a great dog belonging to the premises,) and you 
shall be a beggar to the day of your death." These were 
terrible words, and seemed to express the sentence of a ruth- 
less and unavoidable destiny. He retired and sat down by 
the side of a young gentleman with whom he had been in 
class, but who, unable to lag behind with his dulness, re- 
quested to be separated, that he might advance by himself. 
Here he was received with the most bitter taunts, and poig 2 
nant insults. " What ! have you not learned that lesson yet ? 

what a stupid ass ! You and I began together : you are 
now only in As in prasenti, and I am in Syntax !" and then 
with cruel mockings, began to repeat the last lesson he had 
learned. The effect of this was astonishing — young Clarke 
was roused as from a lethargy ; he felt, as he expressed him- 
self, as if something had broken within him : his mind in a 
moment was all light. Though he felt indescribably morti- 
fied, he did not feel indignant : what, said he to himself, shall 

1 ever be a dunce, and the butt of those fellows' insults ! He 
snatched up his book, in a few moments committed the 
lesson to memory, got the construction speedily ; went up 
and said it, without missing a word ! — took up another lesson, 
acquired it almost immediately, said this also without a 
blemish, and in the course of that day wearied the master with 
his so often repeated returns to say lessons ; and committed to 
memory all the Latin verses with their English construction, 
in which heavy and tedious Lilly has described the four con- 
jugations, with their rules, exceptions, &c. &c. Nothing like 
this had ever appeared in the school before — the boys were 
astonished — admiration took the place of mockings and insult, 
and from that hour, it may be said from that moment, he 
found his memory at least capable of embracing every subject 



AT SCHOOL. 



that was brought before it, and his own long sorrow was 
turned into instant joy ! 

For such a revolution in the mind of a child, it will not be 
easy to account. He was not idle, and though playful never 
wished to indulge this disposition at the expense of instruc- 
tion — his own felt incapacity was a most oppressive burthen ; 
and the anguish of his heart was evidenced by the tears which 
often flowed from his eyes. Reproof and punishment pro- 
duced neither change nor gooa,{or there was nothing to be 
corrected to which they could apply. Threatenings were 
equally unavailing, because there was no wilfid indisposition 
to study and application; and the fruitless desire to learn, 
shewed at least the regret of the want of that ability for the 
acquisition of which, he would have been willing to have 
made any kind of sacrifices. 

At last this ability was strangely acquired, but not by slow 
degrees ; there was no conquest ov er inaptitude and dulness 
by persevering and gradual conflict ; the power seemed ge- 
nerated in a moment, and in a moment there was a transition 
from darkness to light, from mental imbecility to intellectual 
vigour, and no means nor excitements were brought into ope- 
ration but those mentioned above. The reproaches of his 
school-fellow were the spark which fell on the gunpowder 
and inflamed it instantly. The inflammable matter was there 
before, but the spark was wanting. This would be a proper 
subject for the discussion of those who write on the philosophy 
of the human mind. 

This detail has been made the more particular, because he 
ever considered it as one of the most important circumstances 
in his life ; and he has often mentioned it as a singular Provi- 
dence which gave a strong characteristic colouring to his sub- 
sequent life. This account may not be unuseful to those who 
have the care of youth ; and it may teach the masters of the 
rod and ferula, that these are not the instruments of instruc- 
tion, though extremely proper for the correction of the obsti- 
nate and indolent ; — that motives exciting to emidation and 
to the prevention of disgrace may be, at least in some cases, 
more powerful and efficient than any punishment that can be 
inflicted on the flesh. A thorough study of the philosophy of 
the human mind and what constitutes individual character, 
seem essentially necessary qualifications for all those to whom 
the instruction of the rising generation is confided ; and if this 
be so, there are few persons properly qualified to be competent 
Schoolmasters. 

Let not the reader imagine from this detail, that from the 
time mentioned above, A. C. found no difficulty to cultivate 
his mind in the acquisition of knowledge; it was not so: he 
ever found an initial difficulty to comprehend any thing ; and 
till he could comprehend in some measure the reason of the 



60 



adam clarke's education 



thing, he could not acquire the principle itself. In this respect 
there was a great difference between him and his brother ; the 
latter apprehended a subject at first sight, and knew as 
much of it in a short time as ever he knew after : the former 
was slow in apprehension and proceeded with great caution 
till he understood and was sure of his principles ; he then pro- 
ceeded with vigour, endeavouring to push those principles to the 



There was one branch of Knowledge in which Adam could 
never make any progress ; viz. Arithmetic. He was put to 
this when he was very young, before he was capable of com- 
prehending its leading principles ; and the elementary books 
then in common use were not happily conceived for the ad- 
vantage of learners. Fisher's Arithmetic, was that out of 
which he learned the Jive common rules,, and in it the exam- 
ples in many cases are far from being distinct, and are often 
not well constructed to shew the principles of the rule which 
they are intended to illustrate. What can a child make of the 
following question in Multiplication : — " In ninety-eight casks 
of capers, each 3cwt. 3qrs. I4lbs., how many hundreds 7* 
This was a question with which he was grievously puzzled, 
and which when he had mastered, he thought he had perform- 
ed a work of no small magnitude. 

The depressed state of this Family has already been referred 
to, and in such a way as not to leave the Reader any great 
hope of its emerging and rising to affluence : this was never 
the case. Still, however, the best provision was made for the 
education of the two only sons, which the disadvantageous 
circumstances of the family could afford. 

But how true is the saying of an eminent poet : — 



Mr. Clarke had always a small farm, this was necessary 
for the support of a large family ; his professional labours being 
inadequately remunerated at best, and often ill repaid by the 
parents of his pupils. It has no doubt been already perceived 
that Mr. C.'s school was of a mixed nature. He taught by 
himself alone, Beading, Writing, and Arithmetic, comprising 
Bookkeeping, Trigonometry, and Navigation; together with 
the Greek and Latin classics. The price at which each was 
taught may be reputed a curiosity : — 

Beading, l^d. per week; Writing, 2d.; Writing and Ac- 
compts, 4d.' y and Greek and Latin 7s. per quarter. These 
were the highest terms in that country in the latter end of the 
eighteenth century. 



utmost of their 1 




Haud facile emergunt quorum virtoitibus obstat 
Res angusta doini.— 



Slowly they rise whose virtues are oppressed 
By hard distress at home. 



AT SCHOOL. 



61 



Should it be supposed that the work was proportioned to the 
wages, it may safely be asserted, it was not. Mr. C. was a 
good penman, few, if any classical scholars superior: he was 
thoroughly acquainted with arithmetic, and taught it well; and 
of his classical knowledge, his son Adam, no mean judge in a 
matter of this nature, has been heard to say, "I have known 
many of more splendid literary talents than my father, many 
who could shine more pro re nata, in Greek and Latin learn- 
ing; but a more correct scholar I never knew." Many persons 
of considerable eminence in all departments of science and li- 
terature were educated by Mr. Clarke, — Clergymen, Presbyte- 
rian Ministers and Popish Priests ; Lawyers, Surgeons, Physi- 
cians, and Schoolmasters. 

From this statement it will appear, that he required some- 
thing to help out the deficiencies of his school, for the support 
of a numerous family : Agriculture, as has already been ob- 
served, of which he was particularly fond, was that to which 
he had recourse. On a peculiarly ungrateful soil, which he 
held for many years, he bestowed much of his own labour both 
early and late, this was the only time he had ; for both in 
summer and winter he entered his school precisely at eight in 
the morning, which he continued t\\\ eight in the evening 
in summer, and till near four in the depth of winter. From 
May till September, he allowed one hour for dinner: during 
the rest of the year the school was continued without any in- 
termission. He had only two vacations in the year, amount- 
ing to three weeks in the whole ; eight days at Easter and a 
fortnight at Christmas. Before and after school hours was 
the onlv time in which he could do any thing in his little 
farm; the rest of the labor, except in those times when several 
hands must be employed to plant and sow, or gather in the 
kindly fruits of the earth, was performed, with very little fo- 
reign assistance, by his two sons. This cramped their educa- 
tion ; but, Omnia vincit improbus labor ; the two brothers went 
day about to school, and he who had the advantage of the day's 
instruction gained and remembered all he could, and impacted 
on his return to him who continued in the farm,- all the know- 
ledge that he had acquired in the day. Thus they were alter- 
nately instructers and scholars, and each taught and learned 
for the other. This was making the best of their circumstances, 
and such a plan is much more judicious and humane than that 
which studies to make one son a scholar, while the others, 
equally worthy of attention, are made the drudges of the fa- 
mily, whereby jealousies and family feuds are often generated. 

Their Father, who was a great admirer of the Georgics of 
Virgil, — the finest production of the finest Poet that ever lived, 
— without particularly calculating that the agricultural rules in 
that elegant work, were in many respects applicable only to 
the soil and climate of Italy, Lat. 45, applied them in a widely 



82 



SCHOOL ANECDOTES. 



different climate, to a soil extremely dissimilar, in Lat. 55, N 
This, in course, was not likely to bring about the most benefi- 
cial results. However this was the general plan on which Mr. 
Clarke carried on his agricultural operations; and it must be 
confessed, howsoever injudicious this must have been in several 
respects, his crops were, at least, as good as those of his neigh- 
bours. 

The School in which A. Clarke had his Classical Education, 
was situated in the skirt of a wood, on a gently rising emi- 
nence, behind which a hill thickly covered with bushes of 
different kinds and growth, rose to a considerable height. In 
front of this little building there was a. great variety of pros- 
pect, both of hill and dale, where, in their seasons, all the 
operations of husbandry might be distinctly seen. The boys 
who could be trusted, were permitted in the fine weather, to 
go into the wood, to study their lessons. In this most advan- 
tageous situation, Adam read the Eclogues and Georgics of 
Virgil, where he had almost every scene described in these 
poems, exhibited in real life, before his eyes. He has often 
said, if ever he enjoyed real intellectual happiness, it was in 
that place, and in that line of study. These living scenes 
were often finer and more impressive comments on the Roman 
poet, than all the laboured notes and illustrations of the Del- 
phi?i Editors, and the Variorum Critics. 

It was in this place, but at an earlier period than that noted 
above, that he composed a Satire on one of his school fellows, 
with whom he had fallen out, on no very sufficient grounds. 
The poem consisted of 175 verses ; and was all composed one 
Saturday afternoon, after the breaking up of school, at a time 
in which he had not learned to write small hand, so as to be 
sufficiently intelligible ; his brother therefore wrote them down 
from his mouth ; some Fragments only remain, and they may 
be introduced here as a proof of what Dr. Johnson calls a 
'precocity of genius in this way : and although they should 
not be deemed promissory of any poetic abilities, yet they are 
at least for a lad of eight or nine years of age, as good as the 
verses on Master Duck, attributed to the almost infancy of 
the above celebrated writer. 

THE PARALLEL :— A POEM. 

Or Verses on William W—k — n, of Portglenone, in the County of 
Antrim, describing the base extraction, high insignificance, a.nd family 
connexions, of the said William W—k — n, alias Pigmy Will. 

The Isle Egina as its said, 
Was once depeopled by a plague : 
Nor male nor female then was spared 
Save Eacus, who was its laird. 
Great Jove to Eacus gave birth, 
As good a wight as hv'd on earth ; 



SCHOOL ANECDOTES. 



And skilPd in magic as it's said, 

He found out means to stop the plague. 

The ants they saw to their surprise, 

The nation fall before their eyes ; 

And earnestly desired then, 

That he would change them into men. 

This was no sooner said than done, 

For straight to conjuring he begun ; 

Then feet and legs might there be seen, 

And bodies moving on the green ; 

With thighs, arms, shoulders, neck, and head, 

Like ghosts arising from the dead. 

Multa desunt. 

When all this tiny race was fram'd, 
There was one of them that was nam'd 
Ninneus, he of stature small, 
The merest dwarf among them all; 
The little Nsethius, Pluto's client, 
Compared to him was like a giant ; — 
Nor all the race of Fairies dire, 
Nor Salamanders bred in fire, 
Nor Oberon the fairy king, 
Nor all the race of dwarfs living, 
Nor one on earth compared him 'till, 
Except the moth called Pigmy Will. (1) 

But certes here, you'll think anon, 
This is a rare comparison ; 
That such a lad as Ninneus was, 
Should likened be to Will the dwarf, 

But now, my muse, for to be brief 
On Willy's acts turn o'er a leaf. 

The Pigmy people did declare, 
With race of Cranes a dreadful war ; 
And urg'd them with their winged might 
To meet them on the field to fight. 

The Cranes, not daunted at this news, 
Ne'er doubting that they'd soon confuse 
This reptile race-, void dread or fear, 
Unto the battle they drew near. 

Our Pigmy with his little page, (2) 
A fearful crane did soon engage : 
She tore their face with beak and nail, 
And dealt her blows as thick as hail. 
In minutes three the page was kill'd ; 
And Will being well in running skill'd, 
Took to his heels t' avoid disgrace, 
And shun the rage of cranish race. 
But fortune's smiles, that wait on th' brave, 
Beam'd not, our hero fleet to save ; 
For soon, alas ! he fell flat down. 
The crane observing him in swoon, 
Clutch'd and lift high up in the air, 
Having fast hold of poor Will's hair. 



64 



adam clarke's 



At this unhappy change of place, 
Will made a haggard rueful face ; 
And earnestly desired to be 
Rid of his potent enemy. 
The crane fast sped, now high, now low, 
With her poor caitiff screaming foe ; 
Till coming o'er Portnegro town, (3) 
She loos'd her fangs, and let him down : 
And he, poor wight, like old king Log, 
Came plumb directly to a bog. 



Like all ancient compositions of famous and learned men, 
the above wonderful Poem stands in need of Notes and Illus- 
trations. 

(A) The transformation of the ants into men by Eacus, in the Island 
of Egina, is taken from Ovid's Metam. Lib. VII., Fab. xxvi. and 
xxvii. And the story of the pigmies and the cranes, may be seen in 
Homer, Pliny, and Juvenal. 
(1) Pigmy Willy — the school nick-name of the young man, William 



(2) Little page, — a poor little serving lad, a sort of playmate of 
William's when he was at his father's house. 

(3) Portnegro, — the town of Portglenone, on the River Ban, near 
to which this family dwelt. 

(4) ril thrash your back, — a very common expression of William's 
father. 

But, it may be asked, how could,.young Clarke, at this age, 
get the information which enabled him to make the above 
classical allusions, for he had not yet read the authors to whom 
the verses refer ? It mav be answered, that he was now learn- 
ing^ and was particularly fond of classical history ; and, hav- 
ing procured an old copy of Littleton's Dictionary, he made 
himself, at a very early age, entire master of all the proper 
names ; so that there was neither person nor place in the 
classic world, of which he could not give a ready account. 
This made him of great consideration among his school-fel- 
lows ; and most of them in all the forms, generally applied to 
him for information on the historical parts of their lessons. 

His love of reading was intense and unconquerable. To 
gratify this passion, and a passion it was in him, he would un- 
dergo any privations, and submit to any kind of hardship. The 
pence that he and his brother got for being good boys, and 
doing extra work, &c, they carefully preserved, never laying 
them out on toys, sweetmeats, &c, as other children did ; but 



QucEcunque desunt. 



When from Portnegro he came home, 

His friends embrac'd him one by one ; 

But father said, " I'll thrash your back, sir, (4) 

" Gin ye dinna mend your manners straight, sir! : 



C cetera desunt. 




FIRST LIBRARY. 65 

when their savings amounted to a sum for which they could 
purchase some interesting book, they laid it out in this way. 
At first they got penny and tw&penny histories, afterwards 
sixpenny books, and so on, as their minds were improved and 
their pence increased. 

Their's was a little library — but to them exceedingly pre- 
cious ; for their books were their companions, and in their 
company every vacant hour was employed. Before and after 
labour, were their chief times for reading; and to gain time, 
the necessary hours of repose were abridged. Childish his- 
tory, tales, and romances, were the first subjects of their study. 
The following short list of their books I give as a curiosity ; 
the names of several are, I suppose, no longer known : — 

The Reading made easy, and Dilworth's Spelling- Book. 

The famous and delight ful History of Tom Thumb. 

Ditto of Jack the Giant Killer. 

Ditto of Jack Homer. 

Ditto of Rosewall and Lilly Ann. 

Ditto of Guy Earl of Warwick. 

Ditto of the Seven Wise Masters and Mistresses. 

Ditto of the Nine Worthies of the World. 

Ditto of Thomas Hickathrift. 

Ditto of Captain James Hind. 

Ditto of the Babes in the Wood. 

Ditto of the Seven Champions of Christendom. 

Ditto of Sir Francis Drake. 

Ditto of the New World, i. e. America. 

Ditto of Captain Falkner. 

Ditto of Montelion, or the Knight of the Oracle. 

Ditto of Robinson Crusoe. 

Ditto of Valentine and Orson. 

Ditto of Parismus and Parismenos. 

The Tale of the Three Bonnets. 

The Fairy Tales. 

Peruvian Talcs. 

Tartarian Tales. 

Arabian Nights' Entertainments. 

The Destruction of Troy. 

Robin Hood's Garland. 

The History of Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of 
Cloudesly. 
The Life of Sir William Wallace. 
A Groat's worth of Wit for a Penny. 
Chevy Chase. 
The Cherry and the Sloe. 
'The Gentle Shepherd. 
'The Pilgrim's Progress. 
JEsop's Fables, by L' Estrange. 

The Holy War.— Cum multis aliis, qua nunc prescribere l&ngum est. 

Such were the humble materials which served as semina 
for a verv large stock of bibliographical knowledge, and, as a 
6* 



66 



EFFECTS OF 



foundation, certainly very unpromising, of one of the most 
select and valuable private libraries in the kingdom. 

" From small beginnings mighty fabrics rise." 

According to the present mode of education, most of these 
articles would be proscribed, as calculated to vitiate the taste 
and give false impressions ; especially books of enchantment, 
chivalry, &c. But is it not better to have a deeply rooted be- 
lief of the existence of an eternal world, — of God, angels and 
spirits, though mingled with such superstition as naturally 
cleaves to infant and inexperienced minds, and which maturer 
judgment, reflection, and experience, will easily correct, — 
than to be brought up in a general ignorance of God and heaven, 
of angels, spirits, and spiritual influence ; or in scepticism 
concerning the whole ? There is a sort of Sadducean edu- 
cation now highly in vogue, that is laying the foundation of 
general irreligion and Deism. Although it may not quadrate 
with certain received maxims, it may be here safely asserted, 
that it was such reading as the above, that gave A. Clarke his 
literary taste, and bent his mind to literary, philosophical,, and 
metaphysical pursuits. He himself has been known to ob- 
serve, ''Had I never read those books, it is probable I should 
never have been a reader, or a scholar, of any kind : yea, I 
doubt much, whether I should ever have been a religious 
man. Books of enchantments, &c, led me to believe in a 
spiritual world, and that if there were a devil to hurt, there 
was a God to help, who never deserted the upright : and, when 
I came to read the Sacred Writings, I was confirmed by their 
authority in the belief I had received, and have reason to thank 
God, that I was not educated under the modem Sadducean 
system." 

At this early age he read the Pilgrim's Progress, as he 
would read a book of Chivalry. Christian was the great 
Hero, by whom the most appalling difficulties were surmount- 
ed, the most incredible labors performed, powerful enchant- 
ments dissolved, giants conquered, and devils quelled. It was 
not likely that he would see it as a spiritual allegory : and 
therefore it was no wonder that he could not comprehend how 
Christian and Hopeful could submit to live several days and 
nights in the dungeon of Doubting Castle, under the torture 
of Giant Despair, while the former " had a key in his bosom 
which could open every lock in that castle." When he read 
that part, and found that Christian actually had such a key, 
and did use it, and thus released both himself and his com- 
panion, he called him fifty fools for his pains ; and has often 
since been led to express his surprise that both John Bunyan 
the author, and those who hold his creed, should not have been 
more aware of these great truths, — that no grace of God can 



EFFECTS OF SUCH READING. 



67 



be at all effectual to the salvation of the soul, unless it be faith- 
fully used ; — that we may have the power to believe to the 
saving of th e soul, and yet not use that power, and so conti- 
nue in darkness and condemnation : for, although faith be the 
gift of God, it is only so as to the grace of faith, or power to 
believe; but the act of faith, or believing, is the act of the 
soul, under the aid of that power or grace j for, although, to 
believe without the power, is as " impossible as to make a 
world," yet, when we have that 'power, we may believe and 
be saved. God no more believes for us, than he repents for 
us. We may have the grace of repentance, — a deep convic- 
tion from his spirit, that we have sinned ; but we may harden 
our hearts against that grace, and so quench the spirit. In 
like manner, we may have the grace or power to believe, and 
yet hesitate, and not cast ourselves on Divine Mercy. Chris- 
tian had the key of faith in his bosom, long before he pulled 
it out to open the doors of his prison house. 

In hearing the history of the Trojan War ; for his father 
used to recite it to his children as a Winter Evening'' s Tale ; 
Adam was so much struck with the character of Hector, — his 
courage, his calmness, dignified carriage, filial piety, and inflex- 
ible love of his country and his family, that he was quite 
enamoured with it ; and when he read Burtoris Nine Wor- 
thies of the World, he longed to see Hector, whom he consi- 
dered the chief of the whole ; and as he had heard that in many 
cases the departed have revisited their friends and others ; he 
has gone out into the fields by himself, when a child of seven 
or eight years old, and with the most ardent desire, invoked 
the soul of the departed Chief to appear to him ; and, think- 
ing that it could hear, has even set it a time and place in the 
fields to meet him. 

Can it be supposed that the Romances which he read could 
be of any real service ? The names of the chief of these, the 
Reader has already seen. With respect to these he has said, 
when conversing with his friends on the subject, — "I believe 
I should have been an arrant coward had I never read Ro- 
mances ; such was the natural timidity, or if you please, im- 
becility of my mind." Of his courage none could doubt, who 
have seen him, while offering the salvation of God to a rebel 
world, surrounded and assailed by a desperate mob, standing 
alone, when his friends had forsaken him and fled, every man 
providing for his own safety. Instances of this kind will oc- 
cur in the course of this Narrative. 

As he had heard and read much of enchantments and enchan- 
ters, so he had heard much of magic and magicians. Whether 
there were any thing real in their pretended science he could 
not tell : but his curiosity prompted him strongly to inquire. 
He had heard of the Occult Philosophy of Cornelius Agrippa, 
and wonderful tales his school-fellows had told relative to mis 



CORNELIUS AGRIPPA 5 3 



book ; — " that it was obliged to be chained to a large block, 
else it would fly, or be carried away," &c. 

Hearing that a school-master at some miles' distance, had a 
copy, he begged his father to write a letter to the gentleman, 
requesting the loan of the book for a few days. Though he 
knew not the road, and was only about eight years of age, yet 
he equipped himself for the journey ; and when his mother 
said, " Adam, you must not attempt to go ; you will be lost, for 
you know not the road," he replied. Never fear, mother, I shall 
find it well enough. " But you will be so weary by the time 
you get there, that you will not have strength to return to 
which he answered, Never fear, mother, if I can get there and 
get the booh, I hope to get as much out of it, as will bring me 
home without touching the ground. The little fellow had 
actually made up hi s mind to return to his home on the back of 
an angel ; he was however disappointed; the man refused to 
lend the book. 

This disappointment only served to whet and increase his 
curiosity : and an occurrence shortly after took place, which 
in some measure crowned his wishes as to a sight of this 
book. A family of travelling tinkers or iron founders, — 
makers of small iron pots, — came to the country. It was currently 
reported of them, that they were all conjurors and possessed 
some wonderful magical books. Adam got leave from his 
parents to visit them. He found a man, his wife, and a tall 
well-made son of about twenty years of age, and several other 
children, two of whom were dumb, encamped in a forsaken 
house, where, for the time being, they had erected a furnace 
and were hard at work. Adam's errand was soon known, and 
the father, a very intelligent man, began to entertain him with 
strange relations of what might be done by spells, figures, 
diagrams, letters, fumigations, &c. &c. All this he heard 
with raptures, and inquired into the particulars : — these were 
sparingly related, and he was told to come the next day. He 
went accordingly, and was well received, and to his inexpres- 
sible joy, a copy of the three books of Cornelius Agrippa)s 
Occult Philosophy was produced. He touched it with fear, 
and read it with trembling, and asked liberty to take some 
notes, which was conceded. In this way, studying, talking, 
looking for simples, and preparing for operations, he spent 
several days ; this eccentric community cheerfully dividing, 
with this indefatigable student, their morsel of homely fare. 
Every night, however, he returned home ; and early in the 
morning revisited these occult philosophers. At length, when 
they had supplied all the adjacent place with their manufac- 
ture, they removed to another part of the country, entirely out 
of his reach ; and he returned laden with spoils, for such he 
esteemed them ; and having, as he supposed, the bounds of 
his knowledge considerably enlarged. His instructer, how- 



OCCULT PHILOSOPHY. 



60 



ever, had told him that there was a fourth book of the incom- 
parable Cornelius Agrippa, without which, as it contained the 
practice of the art, it would be useless to attempt any opera- 
tions. This was discouraging; but it could not be remedied, 
and so he nearly remitted all study of the science, as he was 
unacquainted with the practical part, till he should be able to 
meet with this fourth book. 

The notes which he took at this time were very imperfect, 
as he had not learned to write, so as to make them very intel- 
ligible : but his brother copied all fair ; and by the help of 
Adam's descriptions, made those little entries pretty correct. 

He was persuaded the whole was innocent, for every thing 
seemed to be done with a reference to and dependance upon, 
God. By His terrible name all spirits were to be raised, em- 
ployed, bound, and loosed, The science appeared to connect 
both worlds, and bring about a friendly intercourse between 
disembodied and embodied spirits : and by it those which were 
fallen and wicked were to be made the servants and vassals 
of the good and holy. 

This view of the subject, tended greatly to impose on his 
mind ; but happening about this time to read an answer in a 
book entitled The Athenian Oracle, to the question, — "Is 
that magic lawful whose operations are performed in the 
name of God, and by solemn invocations of his power," &c. 
&c? The answer was, No : — for, concerning such things, 
our Lord has said : Many will say to me in that day, Lord, 
Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name ? And in thy 
name have cast out devils ? And in thy name done many 
wonderfid works ? And th en will I profess unto them, I never 
knew you ; depart from me ye that work iniquity, Mat. vii. 
22, 23. 

This had a proper effect, and made him proceed afterwards 
with caution in all these occult matters : nor did he ever at- 
tempt to use any kind of magical incantations. 

This subject has been treated more particularly because 
many young minds have been led astray by the promises and 
apparent piety of this science ; and have been thereby plunged 
into sorrows and disappointments. So much of the fear of 
God had young Clarke all this time, that had he not been 
convinced that it was consistent with religion, he never would 
have bent his mind to its study. Many years after this, he 
investigated this subject still more minutely ; and saw all that 
could be termed the use and abuse of it. 

There was, however, one good effect produced, by the re- 
port spread in the neighbourhood, — that the young Clarkes 
had such sovereign magical powers, and had such spells set 
in their house, garden, and fields, that, " if any person came to 
plunder or steal, he would be arrested by the power of those 
spells, and not be able to move from the spot in which he be- 



70 



OPINIONS ON HIS EARLY READING. 



gan his depredations, till sun-rise the next morning this 

secured their property. Previously to this, many things were 
stolen, particularly poultry ; but after this, nothing was ever 
taken ; and the family became so secure, that for months 
together, they neither bolted nor locked their doors ; nor indeed 
was it necessary. 

There are three or four articles in the little library mentioned 
above, on which it may be necessary to say a few words, be- 
cause of the effects produced by them on A. C's. mind ; and 
because of the influence they had on his future life and studies: 
— viz. The Arabian Nights' Entertainments, Robinson Cru- 
soe, and L' 'Estrange 's Fables of JEJsop. 

The reading of the first of these gave him that decided taste 
for Oriental History which has been so very useful to him in 
all his biblical studies. He wished to acquaint himself more 
particularly with a people whose customs and manners, both 
religious and civil, were so strange and curious; he never lost 
sight of this till divine providence opened his way, and placed 
the means in his power, to gain some acquaintance with the 
principal languages of the East. This also will be noticed 
in its due place. 

The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, he read as a 
real history; no true tale was ever better or more naturally 
told : and none, merely fictitious, was ever told more impo- 
singly. No h|story, true or feigned, had ever a more direct 
moral tendency. From it, he has often said, he learned more 
expressly his duty to God,, to his parents, and a firmer belief 
in Divine Providence, than from all he read or heard from 
books or men during his early years: and as soon as they could 
read, he took care to put this work into the hands of his own 
children, from the conviction, that in it were combined the finest 
lessons, and maxims of religion and morality, with every thing 
interesting and fascinating in historic detail. He has always 
stated that the good impressions made on his mind by reading 
this work were never effaced. 

With the Fables of jEsop, and his Life by Plamides, he 
was always much delighted. It was almost one of the first 
books that he could read, and it was one of the last of his boy- 
ish companions that he relinquished. The little pictures with 
which it was adorned, were the means of attaching his mind, 
in the first instance. From the Countryman, whose Wagon 
had. stuck fast in the mud, he learned the necessity of stre- 
nuous exertion, while expecting the Divine succour. He often 
applied the words, Thou fool! whip thy horses and set thy 
shoulders to the wheels, and call upon Hercules, and he will 
help thee, to those who expected God by a miracle to bring 
them out of their difficulties, while sitting down in indolence, 
and supine self-despair. 

The fable of the Lark and Young Ones, taught him the 



IRISH MANNERS. 



71 



folly of expecting that help from neighbours and friends which 
a man owed to himself, and which by the exertions of himself 
and family, he could furnish. From the fable of the Farmer 
who wished Rain and Fair Weather in those times which he 
should judge most proper, and at harvest time had no crop, 
he learned the folly of human anxiety concerning the weather, 
and the necessity of depending on divine providence. The 
Braggart who pretended to have cleared so many yards at 
one leap in the Island of Rhodes, shewed him the vanity of 
empty boasting; and of pretending to have done some mighty 
feat in some distant country, which his friends were at liberty 
not to credit till they had seen him perform the same at home. 
The Dog in the Manger, The Trumpeter taken prisoner, 
The sick Kite, The Daw in borrowed Feathers, &c. &c. were 
all to him lessons of instruction; and from them he borrowed 
some of the chief maxims which governed his life. 

It may be proper to give here some account how the pea- 
santry spend their long winter's evenings, in that part of Ire 
land in which young Clarke was born and educated. 

The young people of the different families go night about, to 
each other's houses, and while the female part are employed 
m carding and spinning, the master and elder males, in 
weaving linen cloth, and some of the smaller children in 
filling the bobbins, called there quills, and one holding the lighted 
wooden candle, a thin lath, split from a block of bog-fir, called 
there a split ; — a grandfather, grandmother, or some other aged 
person, tells Tales of other times j chiefly respecting the ex- 
ploits of their ancestors, especially of Fion ma cool {Fingal) 
and his family ; and their wars with the Danes > Some of 
these tales employ two or three hours in the telling. And al- 
though this custom prevailed long before any thing was heard 
of Macpherson, and his Fingal and Ossian, and their heroes ; 
yet similar accounts to his relations, were produced in the 
Nodes Hibernicai of these people. It is true that in these, 
there were many wild stories which are not found in Mac- 
pherson, but the substance was often the same. Perhaps this 
may plead something in favour of Macpherson 's general ac- 
curacy : he did not make all his stories : but he may have 
greatly embellished them. As for the existence of epic poems, 
in those times, either in Ireland, or in the Scotch Highlands, 
it is a fiction too gross to be credited : nothing like these ap- 
pear in the best told tales of the most intelligent Shenachies ; 
which they tell as having received them from their fathers, 
and they from their fathers, and so up to an impenetrable an- 
tiquity. A. C. has been heard to say : — " The Gaelic tales are 
of such a nature, and take possession of the heart and memory 
so forcibly, that they may be related by different persons again 
and again, without omitting any one material circumstance. 
I have heard some of these tales, the telling of which took up 



72 



IRISH TALES. 



three full hours, that I could repeat, and have repeated after- 
wards, in different companies, without the loss of a single 
sentence. I have, in telling such, done little else than give a 
verbal relation, only mending the language, where it appeared 
particularly faulty." But were those tales, to which you refer, 
told in verse ? " No ; they were all in prose : but they might 
have been originally in verse; for the persons who related 
them, translated them out of their maternal tongue, which 
was Irish, alias Gaelic. I asked no questions relative to the 
form in which they existed in the original ; because I did not 
know that any thing depended on it ; for of Macpherson and 
his Ossian, and the controversy on that subject, no man had 
then heard.-' 

In one of those tales which relates to Fion ma cool, (Fin- 
gal,) there is a statement of his conversion by the preaching 
of St. Patrick. When the chief of Erin presented himself be- 
fore the Saint, he found him very decrepit, and obliged to sup- 
port himself on two crutches, while he performed the ceremony 
of baptism. When about to sprinkle the water upon FingaPs 
head, the Saint was obliged to shift his ground, in order to 
stand more commodiously by the chief. In doing this he un- 
wittingly placed the pike of his crutch upon Fionas foot : the 
ceremony being ended, when St. Patrick was about to move 
away, he found the end of his crutch entangled in the foot of 
the chief, the pike having run through it and pinned it to the 
ground ! Expressing both his surprise and regret, he asked 
Fingal, " Why he had not informed him of the mistake at 
first ?" the noble chief answered, c; I thought, holy father, that 
this had been apart of the ceremony." He who could have 
acted so must have been truly magnanimous, and sincerely 
desirous of becoming a Christian ! 

When work and tales were ended the supper was intro- 
duced, which was invariably in the winter evenings, a basket 
of potatoes, boiled, without being peeled ; and either a salt 
herring, or a little milk, mostly butter-milk. Immediately after 
this simple repast all went to bed, and generally arose to work 
a considerable time before day. 

In few parts of the world do the peasantry live a more in- 
dustrious and harmless life. It should also be stated, that 
sometimes, instead of tales, they employ themselves with rid- 
dles, puzzles, and various trials of wit. Sometimes in narra- 
tive and national songs, among which are accounts of foreign 
travels, shipwrecks, the Battle of the Boyne, and the Siege 
of Londonderry. They are fond also of blazoning the piety, 
fortitude, noble descent, and valorous achievements of their 
forefathers. Feats, requiring either much strength or agility, 
were frequent exercises for their young men in these social 
meetings ; such as lifting weights ; and, in moonlight nights, 
out of doors, putting the stone, and pitching the bar or iron 



adam clarke ; s religious education. 



73 



crow. Balancing was a favorite amusement, but in this very- 
few make much proficiency, because it requires great agility 
and a very steady eye. Perhaps, few ever carried this to 
greater perfection than young Clarke ; whatever he was able 
to lift on his chin, that he could balance : iron crows, sledge 
hammers, ladders, chairs, &c. &c, he could in a great vari- 
ety of combinations balance to great perfection on chin, nose 
and forehead. In short, whatever he saw done in this way 
he could do ; so that many of the common people thought he 
performed these feats by a supernatural agency. How much 
more rational and manly are such amusements than cards, 
dice, or degrading games of hazard of any kind ! By these, 
the mind is debased, and the meanest and vilest passions ex- 
cited, nourished and gratified. By those, emulation, corporeal 
strength, agility, &c. are produced and maintained. The for- 
mer may make poltroons and assassins, but can never make 
a man, a friend, or a hero. 



Of his Religious Education, scarcely any thing has been 
yet spoken ; as it was not judged proper to mix his boyish 
operations and pursuits with matters of a more severe and 
spiritual cast. 

W e have already seen that, at a very early age his mind 
was deeply impressed with subjects of the greatest impor- 
tance. This was not a transitory impression : — his mother 
was a woman decidedly religious: she was a Presbyterian 
of the old Puritanic school. She had been well catechised 
in her youth, and had read the Scriptures with great care and 
to much profit. She ever placed the fear of God before the 
eyes of her children, caused them to read and reverence the 
Scriptures, and endeavoured to impress the most interesting 
parts on their minds. If they did wrong at any time, she 
had recourse uniformly to the Bible, to strengthen her reproofs 
and to deepen conviction. In these she was so conversant 
and ready, that there was scarcely a delinquency, for the con- 
demnation of which she could not easily find a portion. She 
seemed to find them on the first opening, and would gene- 
rally say, " See what God has guided my eye to in a moment." 
Her own reproofs her. children could in some measure bear , 
but when she had recourse to the Bible, they were terrified 
out of measure ; such an awful sense had they of the truth of 
God's Word and the Majesty of the Author. One anecdote 
will serve to shew her manner of reproving, and the impres- 
sion made by such reproofs. 

Adam one day disobeyed his mother, and the disobedience 
was accompanied with some look or gesture that indicated 
an undervaluing of her authority. This was a high affront ; she 



74 



adam clarke's religious education. 



immediately flew to the Bible, and opened on these words, 
Prov. xxx. 17, which she read and commented on in a most 
awful manner : — " The eye that mocketh at his father, and 
despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall 
pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it." The poor cul- 
prit was cut to the heart, believing the words had been sent 
immediately from heaven : he went out into the field with a 
troubled spirit, and was musing on this horrible denunciation 
of Divine displeasure, when the hoarse crook of a raven 
sounded to his conscience an alarm more terrible than the cry 
of fire at midnight ! He looked up and soon perceived this 
most ominous bird, and actually supposing it to be the raven 
of which the text spoke, coming to pick out his eyes, he clap- 
ped his hands on them with the utmost speed and trepidation, 
and ran towards the house as fast as the state of his alarm and 
perturbation would admit, that he might escape the impending 
vengeance ! 

The severe creed of his mother led her more frequently to 
represent the Supreme Being as a God of justice, than as the 
God of mercy : the consequence was, the children dreaded 
God, and obeyed only through fear : — perhaps, this was the 
only impression that, could be made, to awaken conscience 
and keep it awake. 

To the religious instructions of his mother, her son ever at- 
tributed, under God, that fear of the Divine Majesty, which 
ever prevented him from taking pleasure in sin. " My mo- 
ther's reproofs and terrors never left me," said he, "till I 
sought and found the salvation of God. And sin was generally 
so burthensome to me, that I was glad to hear of deliverance 
from it. She taught me such reverence for the Bible, that if 
I had it in my hand even for the purpose of studying a chapter 
in order to say it as a lesson, and had been disposed with my 
class-fellows to sing, whistle a tune, or be facetious, I dared 
not do either while the book was open in my hands. In such 
cases I always shut it and laid it down beside me. Who will 
dare to lay this to the charge of superstition /" 

We need not say that such a mother taught her children to 
pray. Each night, before they went to bed, they regularly 
kneeled successively at her knee and said the Lord's Prayer ; 
and implored a blessing on father, mother, relatives, and 
friends : those who were six years old and upwards, said also 
the Apostles' Creed. She had also a Morning Prayer and an 
Evening Prayer, which she taught them : these prayers were 
in verse ; who was the author we know not. As they are 
simple and expressive, and well suited to infant minds, I shall 
insert them for their piety, whatever may be thought of their 
poetry. 



adam clarke's religious education. 



75 



AN EVENING PRAYER, FOR A YOUNG CHILD. 

" I go to my bed as to my grave, 
And pray to God my life to save. 
But if I die, before I wake, 
I pray to God my soul to take. 
Sweet Jesus now, to thee I cry, 
Tp grant me mercy before I die ! 
To grant me mercy, and send me grace, 
That heaven may be my dwelling place !" 

A MORNING PRAYER, FOR A YOUNG CHILD. 

" Preserve me, Lord, amidst the crowd, 
From every thought that's vain and proud ; 
And raise my wandering mind to see, 
How good it is to trust in thee ! 
From all the enemies of thy truth, 
Do thou, O Lord, preserve my youth : 
And raise my mind from worldly cares, 
From youthful sins and youthful snares ! 
Lord, tho' my heart's as hard as stone, 
Let seeds of early grace be sown ; 
Still watered by thy heavenly love, 
Till they spring up to joys above !" 

These she caused them to conclude with the following short 
doxology. 

11 Give to the Father praise, 
And glory to the Son ; 
And to the Spirit of his grace 
Be equal honour done ! ;J 

The xxiiird Psalm in the old Version she also taught them 
to repeat, and her two sons she caused to learn and repeat 
Psalm cxxviii. 

For the little Prayers above mentioned, Adam ever felt a 
fond attachment "They contain," said he, " the first breath- 
ings of my mind towards God ; and even many years after I 
had known the power of God to my Salvation, I continued to 
repeat them, as long as I could with propriety use the term 
youth." 

Every Lord's Day was strictly sanctified; no manner of work 
was done in the family: and the children were taught from 
their earliest youth to sanctify the Sabbath. On that day she 
took the opportunity to catechise and instruct her children, 
would read a chapter, sing a portion of a Psalm, and then go 
to prayer. While reading, she always accustomed the children 
who had discernment, to note seme particular verse in the 
reading, and repeat it to her when prayer was over. This en- 
gaged all their attention, and was the means of impressing the 
word on their hearts as well as on their memories. She obliged 



75 



METHODS OF SINGING. 



them also to get by heart the Church Catechism, and the 

Shorter Catechism of the Assembly of Divines. 

Thus, the children had the creed of their father, who was a 
Churchman, and the creed of their mother, who was a Pres- 
byterian: though she was far from being a Calvinist. But, 
although they went occasionally to the Presbyterian meeting, 
they all felt a decided preference for the Church. 

Though the parents of A. C. belonged to different Christian 
communities, they never had any animosities on religious sub- 
jects. The parish clergyman and the Presbyterian parson, 
were equally welcome to the house : and the husband and 
wife most cheerfully permitted each other to go on their own 
way : nor were any means used by either to determine their 
children to prefer one community to the other. They were 
taught to fear God and expect Redemption through the Blood 
of the Cress, and all other matters were considered by their 
parents, of comparatively little moment. 

As it was fashionable as well as decent for all those who at- 
tended divine worship on the Lord's Day to take a part in the 
'public singing, {for choirs of singers, the bane of this part of 
religious worship, were not known in those times,) so the youth 
spent a part of the long winter's evenings in learning what 
was called sacred music. A person less or more skilled in this 
art, set up a night school in some of the most populous villages ; 
and the young people attended him for two or three hours, so 
many nights in the week. All had books in which the same 
tunes were pricked; and each tune was at first solfa'd, till it 
was tolerably well learned, and then sung to some correspond- 
ing words. Afterwards, each was obliged to give out. some 
verse of his own ; and lastly, as trials of skill, one made a line ; 
by the time that was sung, another was obliged to find a line 
that would match in measure and meaning, a third did the 
same, and a fourth in the same way concluded the stanza; 
neither of these knowing any thing previously of the subject on 
which he should be obliged to compose his verse : these trials 
of skill often produced much doggerel, but there were, not un- 
frequently, some happy lines and flashes of real wit. Some- 
times this contest lay between two persons, the second of whom 
had no more than the time in which the previous line was 
sung, to make that which was to be its correspondent, both in 
sense and measure. 

This method of singing and making alternate verses, is cer- 
tainly very ancient ; we may find traces of it among the ancient 
Greeks and Romans: and in Homer, Theocritus, and Virgil, 
it is expressly mentioned. The song of Moses, of Deborah 
and Barak, and the fifth chapter of Isaiah, and other portions 
in the Old Testament, seem to have been composed in the 
same way. Homer, Theocritus, and Virgil, are direct proofs. 
A quotation from each will shew that this humble singing of 



METHODS OF SINGING. 



77 



the aboriginal Irish peasantry, is not without the sanction of an 
illustrious antiquity. 

'Qs totc fxev rrpoirav npap rje\iov xaradwra 
AaivvvT' ov6 J en 6v[jios eSevero Sairog cl'vrjs, 
Ov fxev (pupfiiyyog ircpiKaWeos, Jiv c% AttoXXcov, 
IS/Lovcaoov 0', at aeiSov afxeiftonevai otu koXtj. 

Iliad I. verse 001. 

Thus the blest gods the genial day prolong 
In feasts ambrosial and celestial song : 
Apollo tun'd the lyre : the Muses round 
With voice alternate aid the silver sound. 

Pope. 

Thus the shepherds, cowherds, and goatherds, in Theo- 
critus: — 

AXX' aye <$>7, (|wa yap bSog, %vva Se Kai acoj) 
B(OKo\iaaSoifi€crda' ra% oirepog aWov ovaaei. 

Idyll. VII. verse 35. 

But let us carol the Bucolic lay, 

Since ours one common sun, one common way. 

Alternate transport may our joy infuse. 

POLWHEELE. 

X' bi fxtv iraideg aeidov, b <T anro'Xos rjOe'Xe Kptvat. 
'Etra 6' ajxoifSairjv vtre\afi0ave Aacpvig aotSav 
J$iOKo\iKav' bvrco 6e IVIej/aX/caj ap£aro irparog. 

Idyll. VIII. verse 28. 

The goatherd not unwilling to decide, 
As in alternate songs the rivals vied ; 
They hastened with contending pipes to play ; 
And first Menalcas breathed the rural lay. 

POLWHEELE. 

Virgil mentions the alternate singing, and gives a reason 
for it, which he appears to have borrowed from Homer: — 

Incipe, Damozta : tu deinde sequere, Menalca. 
Alternis dicetis: aniant alterna Camence. 

Eclog. III. verse 5-3. 

The challenge to Damoetas shall belong; 
Menalcas shall sustain his under song ; 
Each in his turn, your tuneful numbers bring ; 
By turns, the tuneful Muses love to sing. 

Dryden. 

It may be added, that their sacred tunes were few, very 
Jlat, and mostly of common and long measure; and probably 
of Scottish extraction. Tunes entitled French, London. York, 
Abbey, Elgin, Dumfries, Newton, Dublin, &c, &c, and the 
Old Hundredth Psalm, were some of the chief: and one or 
other of these tunes might be heard in every church and meet- 
ing-house through a whole district or county on the Lord's 
Dav. 

7* 



78 



IRISH SINGING. 



The Irish Papists used no singing in that part of the coun- 
try, in their mass-houses. Their singing was chiefly confined 
to funeral occasions * and seems to be the simple remains of 
an exceedingly remote antiquity ; and to have been of Asiatic 
extraction ; as the manner in which it was performed by the 
ancient Jews, appears to be precisely the same with that in 
which it is performed by the present Irish Papists, the des- 
cendants of the aboriginal inhabitants of this country. 

The Caoinian, Irish howl, or Irish cry, as some term it, 
has been much spoken of, but is little understood. It is a 
species of the alternate music already referred to ; and was 
generally practised among the Papists in Dr. Clarke's youth ; 
and he himself has been often present at it : it was then in a 
state of less perfection than it had been, and now is falling into 
entire disuse. The priests having displaced it, by their strong 
recommendation of the Gregorian. Chant. 

Mr. Beauford, in the Transactions of the Royal Irish Aca- 
demy, gives a good account of it : — 

" The body of the deceased, dressed in grave-clothes, and 
ornamented with flowers, and odoriferous herbs, was usually 
placed on a table or elevated place. The relations and the 
Caioniers, i. e. the persons who sung the funeral songs and 
lamentations, ranged themselves in two divisions, one at the 
head, and the other at the feet of the corpse. 

a The Bards and Croteries, i. e. those who composed the 
songs, and related the genealogy, &c, of the deceased, hav- 
ing before prepared the funeral Caionian, the chief bard of 
the head chorus began, by singing the first stanza, in a low 
doleful tune, which was softly accompanied by the harp ; at 
the conclusion, the last semi-chorus began the lamentation, or 
ullaloo, from the final note of the preceding stanza, in which 
they were answered by the head semi-chorus, and then both 
united in one general chorus. 

c< The chorus of the first stanza being ended, the chief bard 
of the first semi-chorus sang the second stanza, the strain of 
which was taken from the concluding note of the preceding 
chorus ; which being ended, the head semi-chorus began the 
gol, or lamentations, in which they were answered by that of 
the foot; and then as before, both united in the general full 
chorus. And thus alternately, were the song and choruses 
performed during the night. 

" The genealogy, rank, possessions, virtues, and vices, of 
the deceased, were rehearsed ; and a number of interrogations 
were addressed to the dead person ; as £ Why did he die V 
If married, 6 Whether his wife was faithful to him : his sons 
dutiful, and good warriors V If a matron, ' Whether her 
daughter were fair or chaste V If a young man, £ Whether 
he had been crossed in love V or £ If the blue eyed maids of 
Erin treated him with scorn V &c, &c. 



THOUGHTS ON DANCING. 



79 



u Each versicle of the Caoinian consisted only of four feet, 
and each foot was commonly of two syllables : the three first 
required no correspondence, but the fourth was to correspond 
with the terminations of the other versicles." 

The music-master whose lessons A. C. attended, willing to 
stand on at least equal ground with all his competitors, and to 
secure a competent number of scholars, proposed that he would 
divide the usual hours into two parts, teach singing in the 
former part, and dancing in the other. This brought him 
several additional scholars, and his school went on much to 
his own advantage. At first Adam despised this silly adjunct 
to what he had always deemed of great importance ; and for a 
considerable time took no part in it; as it appeared little else 
than a mad freak, as long as it lasted. At length, through 
considerable persuasion, his steadfastness was overcome ; by 
long looking, it began to appear harmless; — by and bye graceful, 
and lastly an elegant accomplishment ! It was now, cast in 
your lot vrith us : he did so ; and as it was always a maxim 
with him to do whatever he did with his might ; he bent, much 
of his attention to this, and soon became superior to most of 
his school-fellows. Formerly he went to the school for the 
sake of the singing, — now he went most for the sake of the 
dancing: leaving his understanding uninfluenced, it took 
fast hold of his passions. If prevented at any time from going, 
he felt uneasy, sometimes vexed, and often what is called 
cross : his temper in such cases, being rarely under his own 
control. 

His own opinion of the whole of this business may be best 
told in his own words. " Mala Ave, when about 12 or 13 
years of age, I learned to dance. I long resisted all solicita- 
tions to this employment, but at last I suffered myself to be 
overcome ; and learnt, and profited beyond most of my fellows. 
I grew passionately fond of it, would scarcely walk but in 
measured time, and was constantly tripping, moving, and 
shuffling, in all times and places. I began now to value my- 
self, which, as far as I can recollect, I had never thought of 
before ; I grew impatient of control, was fond of company, 
wished to mingle more than I had ever done, with young 
people ; I got also a passion for better clothing, than that 
which fell to my lot in life, was discontented when I found a 
neighbour's son dressed better than myself. I lost the spirit 
of subordination, did not love work, imbibed a spirit of idle- 
ness, and in short, drunk in all the brain-sickening effluvia of 
pleasure ; dancing and company took the place of reading 
and study ; and the authority of my parents was feared in- 
deed, but not respected ; and few serious impressions could 
prevail in a mind imbued now with frivolity, and the love of 
pleasure; yet I entered into no disreputable assembly, and in 
no one case, ever kept any improper company ; I formed no 



80 



THOUGHTS ON DANCING. 



illegal connection, nor associated with any whose characters 
were either tarnished or suspicious. Nevertheless, dancing 
was to me a 'perverting influence, an unmixed moral evil : 
for although by the mercy of God, it led me not to depravity 
of manners, it greatly weakened the moral principle, drowned 
the voice of a well instructed conscience, and was the first 
cause of impelling me to seek my happiness in this life. 
Every thing yielded to the disposition it had produced, and 
every thing was absorbed by it. I have it justly in abhorrence 
for the moral injury it did me; and I can testify, (as far as 
my own observations have extended, and they have had a 
pretty wide range,) I have known it to produce the same evil 
in others that it produced in me. I consider it therefore, as a 
branch of that worldly education, which leads from heaven to 
earth, from things spiritual to things sensual, and from God 
to Satan. Let them plead for it who will ; I know it to be 
evil, and that only. They who bring up their children in 
this way, or send them to those schools where dancing is 
taught, are consecrating them to the sendee of Moloch, and 
cultivating the passions, so as to cause them to bring forth 
the weeds of a fallen nature, with an additional rankness, 
deep rooted inveteracy, and inexhaustible fertility. Nemo 
sobrius saltat, 1 no man in his senses will dance,' said Cicero, 
a heathen : shame on those Christians who advocate a cause 
by which many sons have become profligate, and many 
daughters have been ruined." Such was the experience of 
A. Clarke in dancing, and such was his opinion of the 
practice. Against this branch of fashionable education he, 
on all proper occasions, lifted up his voice. Many years 
after this he wrote a paper on the subject, which was inserted 
in vol. xv. of the Arminian Magazine ; this was in conse- 
quence of an attempt made to bring it into the boarding 
schools of the Methodists. Under the influence of this de- 
praving practice, A. C. did not long continue : in less than 
two years it began and terminated with him. 

It was now high time to think of casting his lot for life. At 
first he was designed for the Ministry ; and he himself wished 
it, without knowing what he desired. But the circumstances 
of the family, there being now seven children, two sons and 
five daughters, rendered it impracticable to maintain him at 
one of the Universities. That scheme therefore was dropped ; 
and his parents next proposed to place him with a Surgeon 
and Apothecary of their acquaintance : this purpose also mis- 
carried, when just on the eve of completion ; and, as his bro- 
ther had about this time finished his apprenticeship, and gone 
to sea, the family began to think that it would be best for them 
to retain at home, this, their only remaining son, that he 
might assist his father in the school, and succeed him when it 
should please God to render him unfit for the employment. This 



ACCIDENTS. 



81 



was no lure to Adam's mind ; he saw plainly that his father 
had much trouble, with great labour and anxiety, for very small 
gains. And besides, it was not a line of life for which he had 
ever felt any predilection. How his lot was afterwards de- 
termined will shortly appear. 

It may be necessary in this place to mention two accidents, 
both of which had very nearly proved fatal to young Clarke. 
Having occasion to bring home a sack of grain from a neigh- 
bouring village ; it was laid over the bare back of his horse, 
and to keep it steady, he rode on the top ; one end being much 
heavier than the other, he found it difficult to keep it on : at 
last it preponderated so much, that it fell, and he under it ; his 
back happened to come in contact with a pointed stone : he 
was taken up apparently dead ; a person attempted to draw 
some blood from his arm, but in vain, none would flow, and 
his face, neck, &c. turned quite black. He lay insensible for 
more than two hours, during the greater part of which time, he 
was not known even to breathe, so that all said he is dead. 
He was brought near the fire and rubbed with warm cloths ; 
at length a plenteous flow of blood from the orifice in his arm, 
was the means of promoting that respiration which had been 
so long obstructed. All had given him over for dead, and 
even now that he began to breathe, but with an oppressive 
sense of the acutest pain, few entertained hopes that he could 
long survive this accident. In about 24 hours it was thought 
that he might in an easy chair be carried home, which was about 
a mile distant. He however utterly refused to get into the 
chair, but while the men carried it, held it with his right hand, 
and walked by its side, and thus reached his fathers house ; 
and in a short time, to the great surprise of all who had wit- 
nessed the accident, was completely restored. Had he not 
been designed for matters of great and high importance, it is 
not likely in the ordinary course of nature he could have sur- 
vived this accident. 

The second accident had like to have proved completely fa- 
tal, because it happened where he could have no succour. At 
this time his father had removed to the vicinity of Coleraine, 
in the parish of Agherton, very near that beautiful strand, 
where the river Ban empties itself into the Deucaledonian 
Sea. One morning, as was sometimes his custom, he rode a 
mare of his father's into the sea to bathe her ; the sea was 
comparatively calm, the morning very fine, and he thought he 
might ride beyond the breakers, as the shore in that place was 
remarkably smooth and flat. The mare went with great re- 
luctance, and plunged several times ; he urged her forwards, 
and at last he got beyond the breakers into the swells. A ter- 
rible swell coming, from which it was too late to retreat, 
overwhelmed both the horse and its rider. There was no 
person in sight, and no help at hand : the description which 



82 



DEATH BY DROWNING. 



he afterwards gave will be best known from his own 
words. 

" In company one day with the late Dr. Letsom, of Lon- 
don, the conversation turning on the resuscitation of persons 
apparently dead from drowning ; Dr. L. said, ' Of all that I 
have seen restored, or questioned afterwards ; I never found 
one who had the smallest recollection of any thing that passed 
from the moment they w r ent under w T ater, till the time m which 
they were restored to life and thought.' Dr. Clarke answered, 
'Dr. L., I knew a case to the contrary.' 'Did you indeed?' 
' Yes, Dr. L., and the case was my own : I was once drown- 
ed,' — and then I related the circumstances ; and added, ( 1 
saw my danger, but thought the mare would swim, and I 
knew I could ride ; w'hen we were both overwhelmed, it ap- 
peared to me that I had gone to the bottom with my eyes 
open. At first I thought I saw the bottom clearly, and then 
felt neither apprehension nor pain ; — on the contrary, I felt 
as if I had been in the most delightful situation : my mind 
was tranquil, and uncommonly happy ; I felt as if in Para- 
dise, and yet I do not recollect that I saw any person ; the 
impressions of happiness seemed not to be derived from any 
thing around me, but from the state of my mind; and yet I 
had a general apprehension of pleasing objects ; and I cannot 
recollect that any thing appeared defined,, nor did my eye take 
in any object, only 1 had a general impression of a green co- 
lour, such as of fields or gardens ; but my happiness did not 
arise from these, but appeared to consist merely in the tran- 
quil, indescribably tranquil, state of my mind. By and bye 
I seemed to aw^ake as out of a slumber, and felt unutterable 
pain, and difficulty of breathing ; and now I found I had been 
carried by a strong wave, and left in very shallow w T ater upon 
the shore ; and the pain I felt was occasioned by the air once 
more inflating my lungs, and producing respiration. How 
long I had been under water I cannot tell : it may how r ever 
be guessed at by this circumstance : — when restored to the 
power of reflection, I looked for the mare, and saw r her walk- 
ing leisurely down shore towards home ; then about half a 
mile distant from the place where ice were submerged. Now 
I aver, 1. That in being drowned, / felt no pain. 2. That I 
did not for a single moment lose my consciousness. 3. I felt 
indescribably happy, and though dead, as to the total suspen- 
sion of all the functions of life, yet I felt no pain in dying : 
and I take for granted from this circumstance, that those who 
die by drowning, feel no pain ; and that probably, it is the 
easiest of all deaths. 4. That I felt no pain till once more 
exposed to the action of the atmospheric air ; and then I felt 
great pain and anguish in returning to life ; w^hich anguish, 
had I continued under water, I should have never felt. 5. 
That animation must have been totally suspended from the 



ATTEMPTED ROBBERY. 



S3 



time I must have been under water : which time might be in 
some measure ascertained by the distance the mare was from 
the place of my submersion, which was at least half a mile, 
and she was not, when I fhst observed her, making any speed. 
6. Whether there were any thing preternatural in my escape, 
I cannot tell : or whether a ground swell had not in a merely 
natural way borne me to the shore, and the retrocession of 
the tide, (for it was then ebbing,) left me exposed to the open 
air, I cannot tell. My preservation might have been the ef- 
fect of natural causes ; and yet it appears to be more rational 
to attribute it to a superior agency. Here then, Dr. L., is a 
case widely different, it appears, from those you have wit- 
nessed : and which argues very little for the modish doctrine 
of the materiality of the soul? Dr. Letsom appeared puzzled 
with this relation, but did not attempt to make any remarks 
on it. Perhaps the subject itself may not be unworthy of the 
consideration of some of our minute philosophers" 

I shall relate two other remarkable accidents which occurred 
in his neighbourhood about this time. 

A neighbouring farmer, Mr. David Reed, had the reputation 
in the country of being extremely rich. Several attempts had 
been made to rob his house, but they had all failed. At last a 
servant, who had lately lived with him, and knew the way of 
the house, plotted with one Cain, a cooper, and one Digny, 
a schoolmaster, and a fellow of the name of M l Henry, to rob 
the house on a Sabbath evening. Neither of them lived in that 
neighbourhood : they rendezvoused in a town called Garvagh, 
about a mile and a half from the place, where they purchased 
a couple of candles. They left that about eleven o'clock at 
night, and concealed themselves somewhere in the fields, till 
about two in the morning. They then came to the house and 
had a consultation, which was the best method of entering. — 
At first they got a long ladder and reared it against the house, 
intending to strip off some of the thatch above the kitchen, and 
enter that way, as there was no flooring above it. This they 
afterwards gave up as too tedious, and likely to lead to a dis- 
covery. They were now about to abandon their design, when 
Digny, a man of desperate courage, upbraided them with cow- 
ardice; and said, " Will you resign an enterprise in which you 
are likely to acquire so large a booty, because there appear to 
be some difficulties in the way V After a little parley, they 
came to the resolution to take the house by storm, and Digny 
agreed to enter first, by suddenly dashing the kitchen window 
to pieces. Jle stripped off his coat and waistcoat, tied a garter 
round each arm to confine his shirt, one about each knee to 
render him more firm, and one round his waist, in which he 
stuck his pistols, and tied a handkerchief over his face, with 
three holes cut in it, one for his mouth and two for his eyes. 
He then, in a moment, dashed the window to pieces, passed 



■34 



ATTEMPTED ROBBERY. 



through it, and leaped down from the sill, and though he alight- 
ed on a spinning-wheel, and broke it in pieces, yet he did not 
stumble ! He flew in a moment to the door, unlocked it, and 
let two of the gang in, the fourth. AI' Henry , standing without 
as sentry. The lock being a very good one, the bolt went back 
with so loud a noise as to awaken Mr. Reed, who lay in a 
room off the kitchen, on the same floor. A young man of the 
name of Kennedy, a servant in the family, lay in a room next 
to that of his master, only separated from it by a narrow pass- 
age, which divided two sets of rooms on the right and left. — 
Cooper Cain, and the other accomplice, went immediately to 
the fire, which being in that country formed of turf was raked 
up in its own ashes, and began to pull out the coals in order to 
light their candle. Mr. Reed having been awakened as before 
related, jumped out of bed, ran up the passage towards the 
kitchen, and cried out "Who is there?" Digny, who was 
standing ready with his hanger drawn, waiting for the light, 
which the others were endeavoring to procure, hearing the 
voice, made a blow at the place whence it came, but did not see 
that the old man had not yet passed through the door into the 
kitchen ; the hanger caught the bricks above the door head, 
broke out more than a pound weight off one of them, above the 
lintel, slided down, and laid Mr. Reed's right cheek open from 
the eye to the lower jaw. Had he been six inches more ad- 
vanced the blow would have cleft his head in two. The old 
man feeling himself wounded, sprang desperately forward and 
seized the assassin, who immediately dropped his hanger, 
which he could no longer use, (for Mr. Reed, who was a pow- 
erful man, had seized him by both his arms,) closed in and 
grappled with Mr. R. Kennedy \ who had been awake even 
before the window was broken, arose, and while his master 
and Digny were struggling in the passage, got past them, 
went into the kitchen where a charged gun was hanging on 
hooks high up on the wall, ascended a large chest, seized the 
gun, which he not being able to get readily out of the hooks, 
with a desperate pull brought the hook out of the wall, descend- 
ed from the chest, squeezed by his master and the assassin, 
still straggling in the passage, cocked it, and was going to fire, 
but could not discern his master from the robber. With great 
presence of mind he delayed till Cain and his confederate 
having succeeded in lighting their candle, (which they found 
very difficult, not having a match,) he was able to discern be- 
tween his master and Digny. In that moment he fired, and 
shot the latter through the heart, who instantly fell, and Mr. 
Reed on the top of him. Kennedy having discharged his piece, 
immediately cried out, "I have shot one of them, hand me the 
other gun.' 5 Cain and his accomplice hearing the report, and 
seeing what was done, immediately extinguished their candle, 
issued out at the door, and they and M l Henry fled for their lives. 



ATTEMPTED ROBBERY. 



35 



Though it has taken some time to describe the circumstances 
of this transaction, yet the Reader must not imagine that 
much time had elapsed from the forcible entry till the death of 
Digny. All these circumstances were crowded into two or 
three minutes. Kennedy then flew to the door, relocked it, 
threw chairs, tables, &c. against it and the window, reloaded 
his gun, into which in his hurry, he put nearly eleven inches 
of powder and shot, and stood ready to meet another attack. 

But who can describe the horrors of this family, expecting 
every moment a more powerful assault, none daring to go out, 
or open the door to seek for help, the house being at some dis- 
tance from the rest of the village ! There were in the house, 
only Mr. Reed, an aged, infirm sister, a little boy, and Kennedy 
the servant man. Mr. Reed, partly with the alarm, partly 
with the wound and consequent loss of blood, was reduced to 
great weakness, and his mind became so disturbed that he 
could scarcely believe the slain assassin who lay on the floor, 
was not his own servant Kennedy who had been shot by the 
robber. 

At length after several hours of the deepest anxiety, daylight 
returned, and brought assurance and confidence to this distress^ 
ed family. The issue of this business was, M 1, Henry turned 
king's evidence, and the old servant was taken and hanged ; 
but Cooper Cain fled, and was never heard of more. Digny 
was buried like a dog without coffin, &c. in the church-yard, 
but afterwards had an untimely resurrecction. One of A. C.'s 
school-fellows, who was then apprentice to a surgeon, came 
with a fellow-apprentice to the grave-yard after night, dug him 
up, put him in a sack, laid him across a horse, one of them 
riding behind to hold him on, and thus carried him to Cole^ 
raine, a distance of twelve miles, which they reached before 
daylight ; and taking him to the market-house, one of the sur- 
geons, Mr. Ellison, opened him and gave the young men a 
lecture on the subject in general; after which he was buried 
at the foot of the rampart. Kennedy got forty pounds at the 
county assizes : his master put him to school for a time, and it 
was naturally supposed, that as he had no child he would pro- 
vide for him during life, but Mr. R. died soon after and left 
his preserver nothing! 

There was a circumstance in the case worthy of remark : 
Mr. R. had lent his gun to a man who lived several miles off: 
on Saturday evening, Kennedy asked liberty from his master 
to go and bring home the gun, which was with difficulty 
granted. Had not the gun been brought home that night, 
there is no doubt the house would not only have been robbed, 
but every soul murdered ; as it was evident they had intended 
to leave no person alive to tell tales. 

The second instance I have to relate, was still more melan- 
choly. An equestrian came to that country, and performed 
8 



86 



FATALITIE3, OMENS, 



several remarkable feats of horsemanship. He could manage 
the wildest horses ; and permitted people to fire off guns and 
pistols while practising the most dangerous positions. He had 
appointed a day to perform in a large open field : multitudes 
went to see him, and many fired off guns during the ex- 
hibition. A nephew of the same Mr. Reed was on the 
ground, and had the same gun with him with which Digny 
was shot. He, supposing that it had been discharged and 
charged again with powder only, (whereas it had a heavy 
charge of duck-shot,) fired low near the horse's side, as the 
equestrian rode by in that part of the ring. Lieutenant Ste- 
phen Church, A. C.'s brother, and Mr. William Clark, one of 
his school-fellows, standing together in the opposite side of the 
ring, the principal part of the charge entered the Lieutenant's 
right leg, and tore it almost to pieces. Several shot entered 
one of the legs of Mr. W. Clark, and A. C.'s brother had his 
shoe ploughed in several places, by the shot, but he was not 
wounded. A mortification taking place, the leg was amputated 
in a very unskilful manner, and the Lieutenant shortly after 
died. What was very remarkable in this case was ; Lieut. 
C. had lived what was called a gay, that is, a worldly, care- 
less, life; without, apparently, any sense of religion: from 
the moment he was wounded, he laid his eternal interests 
most deeply to heart ; and spent the interval between the ac- 
cident and his death, which was some weeks, in deeply mourn- 
ing for past errors, and in incessant prayer for redemption 
through the Friend of sinners. 

It is worthy of remark that, that gun, which was esteemed 
the best in the neighbourhood, had killed Digny, killed Lieut, 
Church, and killed a nephew of Mr. Reed's ; — he was found 
in a field, where he had gone out on a fowling excursion, lying 
against a bank, his brains blown out, and the gun lying by his 
side ! This circumstance would have served for a place in the 
Miscellanies of Sir John Aubrey, who might suppose that fa- 
talities were attached to 'particular instruments, as well as to 
particular places and times. 

Shortly after Lieutenant Church received his wound, his 
brother, George Church, Esq., a gentleman of very large 
estates, was killed by a fall from his horse. Previously to these 
two disasters, strange noises were heard in the mansion- 
house called the Grove. The doors were said to have opened 
and shut of themselves ; sometimes all the pewter dishes, &c. 
on the dresser in the kitchen, were so violently agitated as to 
appear to have been thrown down on ' the floor, though no- 
thing was moved from its place. Sometimes heavy treading 
was heard where no human being was ; and often, as if a 
person had fallen at whole length on the floor, above the 
kitchen ! A. C. sat up one whole night in that kitchen, dur- 
ing Lieut. Church's indisposition, and most distinctly heard 



FAIRIES, ETC. 



87 



the above noises, shortly before Mr. G. Church was killed by 
the fall from his horse. After the death of the two brothers, 
these noises were heard no more ! What was the cause of 
the noises was never discovered. 

While on the subject of omens, it may not be improper to 
notice the opinion concerning Fairies, then so prevalent in 
that country. It is really astonishing how many grave, sober, 
sensible, and even religious people, have united in asserting 
the fact of their existence ! and even from their own personal 
knowledge, as having seen, or heard, or conversed with them ! 
At a near neighbour's, according to the report of the family, 
was their principal rendezvous in that country. The good 
woman of the house declared in the most solemn manner to 
Mrs. Clarke, that a number of those gentle people, as she 
termed them, occasionally frequented her house ; that they 
ofcen conversed with her, one of them putting its hands on 
her eyes, during the time, which hands she represented, from 
the sensation she had, to be about the size of those of a child 
of four or five years of age ! This good woman with her- 
whole family, were worn down with the visits, conversations, 
&c. &c. of these generally invisible gentry. Their lives 
were almost a burthen to them ; and they had little prosperity 
in their secular affairs. But these accounts were not confined 
to them : the whole neighbourhood was full of them, and the 
belief was general if not universal. From the natural curi- 
osity of A. C. it needs not to be wondered that he wished to 
see matters of this sort. He and his brother frequently sup- 
posed that they heard noises and music altogether unearthly. 
Often they have remarked that small fires had been kindled 
over night in places where they knew there were none the 
preceding day ; and at such sights, it was usual for them to 
say to each other, The fairies have been here last night. 
Whatsoever may be said of such imaginings and sights, 
though not one in a million may have even the shadow of 
truth, yet sober proofs of the existence of *a spiritual world, 
should not be lightly regarded. We may ridicule such ac- 
counts, till the Holy Scriptures themselves may come in for 
their share of infidel abuse. 



m 



SUMMARY OF RELIGION. 



BOOK II. 



I come now to the most important part of A. C.'s life, — 
that in which he began to perceive the importance of pure and 
undefiled Religion : and in which he began to discern and 
relish the power of divine truth. It is not to be supposed that 
there can be any great variety in the experience of religious 
people. Repentance, faith, and holiness, are unchangeable 
in their nature, and uniform in their effects. Religion has to 
do with one God, one Mediator, one sacrifice ; it recommends 
one faith, enjoins one baptism, proclaims one heaven, and one 
hell. All these are unchangeable both in their nature and their 
effects. One Gospel is the fountain whence all these things 
are derived ; and that Gospel being the everlasting' Gospel, 
was, is, and will be, the same, from its first publication, till 
time shall be no more. Novelty, therefore, on such subjects, 
cannot be expected : he who has read the conversion and re- 
ligious experience of one sensible man, has, in substance, read 
that of ten thousand. 

Yet still it is a subject of laudable curiosity to know, how a 
mind such as that of Adam Clarke's became first enlightened ; 
on what grounds he first received that religious creed of which 
he was afterwards so powerful an advocate ; and why he be- 
came so decisively attached to that body of religious people in 
whose communion he still remains. 

We have already noticed the bringing up of A. C. and the 
care that a religious mother took of the spiritual concerns 
of her children ; and the good effects of that education, in 
opening their minds to religious truth, and keeping their 
hearts susceptible of divine impressions. We have also seen, 
what effects this produced on the mind of Adam in particular, 
filling his heart with thenar of God, a deep reverence for the 
Bible, and the most cordial approbation of the principles of 
Christianity in general. We are now to witness the vegeta- 
tion of that seed which was cast into a soil which God had 
fitted for its reception; where it took deep root, and brought 
forth such fruits as gave no equivocal evidence of a thorough 
scriptural conversion. He had hitherto sat principally under 
the ministry of the Rev. W. Smith, of Millburn, near Cole- 
raine, Rector of the parish of Agherton. He was a good man, 
full of humanity and benevolence, and preached, as far as he 
knew it, most conscientiously, the Gospel of Christ j but on 



FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE METHODISTS. 



the doctrine of justification by faith, or the way in which a 
sinner is to be reconciled to God, he was either not very clear, 
or was never explicit. He was fond of Adam because he was 
almost the only person who assisted the clerk in the Church 



Besides his general attendance at church with his father, 
Adam occasionally went to the Presbyterian meeting-house, 
where the trumpet gave a very uncertain sound, as both pastor 
and people were verging closely on Socinianism. A general 
forgetfulness of God prevailed in the parish ; which, as to re- 
ligious matters, was divided between the Church and the Pres- 
byterians : and there was scarcely a person in it, decidedly 
pious, though ther§ were several that feared God, and but few 
that were grossly profane or profligate. In that parish there 
was not one Roman Catholic family. The state of experi- 
mental religion was very low, though there were still some 
old people who talked about the godliness of their ancestors; 
and seemed to feel no small satisfaction, and even spiritual 
safety, in being able to say We have Abraham for our father. 
Even Mrs. Clarke, for the w r ant of the means of grace, and 
the doctrine that is according to godliness, had lost ground, 
and began to be remiss in her domestic practice of piety. The 
place needed reformation, but faithful reprovers were wanting; 
— like the foolish virgins, they were all either slumbering or 
sleeping, and it required a voice like the midnight cry, to 
awake them. This voice, God, in his endless mercy, shortly 
sent. 

About the year 1777, the Methodist preachers, who had 
been for some time established in Coleraine, visited the parish 
of Agherton. Of this people A. had never before heard, 
except once from a paragraph in a newspaper, wdiere it was re- 
marked as a singular thing, and w'ell worthy of notice, that — 
" A Methodist preacher, ministering in the open air, to a large 
congregation, a heavy showier of rain falling, the people began 
to disperse to seek shelter in their houses, which the preacher 
observing, told them that 1 rain was one of the chief blessings 
of God's providence, that without it there could be neither 
seed time, nor harvest, nor indeed any green thing on the face 
of the earth : and will you,' said he, 'fly from the gift, of God?' 
The people felt the reproof, gathered more closely together, and 
though the rain continued to descend, heard patiently and pi- 
ously to the end of the discourse." 

One evening, after school hours, a young gentleman, one of 
A. C.'s school-fellows, came to him, and surprised him by say- 
ing " Cpme, Adam, let us go to Burnside, there is a Methodist 
preacher to be there this evening, and we shall have nice fun." 
Now, although Adam was sufficiently playful, and was always 
ready to embrace any opportunity for diversion and amuse- 
ment, yet he was puzzled to understand -how preaching and 




90 



FIRST ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE METHODISTS. 



playing could be associated ; or how a time set apart for de- 
votion, could be proper for amusement ; for he had been always 
taught to hold preaching in reverence, whether he heard it in 
the church, or in 'the Presbyterian meeting. He engaged 
however to go, yet without the slightest expectation of the 
promised diversion. He went accordingly, and found many 
people assembled in a barn : in a short time the preacher en- 
tered, a plain, serious looking man, but widely different in his 
dress, from any clerical gentleman he had ever before seen. 
His name was John Brettel ; he was many years a very re- 
spectable itinerant preacher among the Methodists, as was also 
his brother Jeremiah, and sprung from a very respectable family 
in Birmingham. A. C, fixed his eyes upon him, and was not 
at all surprised with his first sentence, which was this, " I see 
several lads there, I hope they will be quiet and behave well ; 
if not, they shall be put out of the house." As Adam expect- 
ed no diversion, he was not disappointed by this declaration. 
He did not recollect the text, and the discourse did not make 
any particular impression on his mind : but he was rather sur- 
prised by the following assertion, " The Westminster divines," 
said the preacher, " have asserted in their Catechism, that no 
mere man, since the fall, can keep God's commandments : 
but doth daily break them in thought, word, and deed : but 
the Scriptures promise us salvation from all our sin: and I 
must credit them in preference to the Westminster divines." 
Adam had learned his Catechism, as before stated, and had 
given implicit credence to this assertion : but he reasoned thus 
with himself, " If the Scriptures say the contrary/certainly I 
should believe the Scriptures in preference to the catechism." 

After preaching was enfted, Mr. Brettel went into the man's 
house, whose barn he had occupied, and several people fol- 
lowed him, and among the rest, young Clarke. He talked 
much on the necessity of Repentance, Faith, Holiness, &c. ; 
and exhorted the people to turn to God with all their hearts, 
and not to defer it. This second meeting broke up in about 
half an hour, and the preacher and his friends returned to 
Coleraine. There was with him, among others, Mr. Stephen 
Douthitt, well known in Coleraine, as an irreproachable pat- 
tern of practical Christianity ; and an ornament to the Metho- 
dist's society in that place, for nearly half a century. 

On his return to his father's house, Adam reflected a good 
deal on the man, his manner, and his conversation. And 
thought, if these people talk so continually about religion, 
both in public and private, they must have a painful time of it. 

The next week Mr. B. came to another part of the neigh- 
bourhood, and Adam went to hear him : his text was,' Behold, 
I stand at the door and knock ; if any man hear my voice 
and open the door, I will come in to him, and wiU sup with him, 
and he with me. — Rev. iii. 20. He pointed out the various 



INCREASING KNOWLEDGE OF RELIGION. 



0) 



methods which God used in order to awaken and alarm im- 
penitent sinners ; and the dreadful consequences of slighting, 
resisting, or neglecting these calls, — ruin final and eternal 
must be the inevitable consequence ; " but God," said he, 
" always fires the warning cannon before he discharges the 
murdering piece?" This was the last time he heard Mr. 
Brettel : other preachers succeeded him in Coleraine, and oc- 
casionally visited Agherton, and most of the neighbouring 
towns and villages ; and when they were within his reach, 
A. C. attended their ministry. At length that truly apostolic 
man, Mr. Thomas Barber, came to the place ; and with in- 
defatigable diligence and zeal went through all the country, 
preaching Christ Crucified, and Redemption through his Blood ; 
in dwelling-houses, barns, school-houses, the open air, &c. &c; 
and many were awakened under his ministry. Mrs. Clarke, 
Adam's mother, went to hear, and immediately pronounced, 
" this is the doctrine of the Reformers-— this is true unadul- 
terated Christianity." In this she greatly rejoiced, and press- 
ed all her family to go and hear for themselves. Mr. Clarke 
went, and he bore testimony that it w T as " the genuine doctrine 
of the Established Church." The preacher was invited to 
their house, which he and all his successors, ever had as their 
home, and were always entertained according to the best 
circumstances of the family. Under the preaching and pious 
advices of this excellent man, Adam's mind got gradually en- 
lightened and improved : he had no violent awakenings ; his 
heart was in a good measure, by his mother's pious care, pre- 
pared to receive the seed of the kingdom, and the doctrine of 
God " dropped on him as the rain, his speech distilled on him 
as dew; as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as 
showers upon the grass." He followed this preacher every 
where within his reach; left all childish diversions, be- 
came sedate and sober, prayed in private and read the Scrip- 
tures ; till at last his parents began to think he was likely to 
be righteous over much ; he however went on and attended 
closely to his work in the farm ; sometimes from four o'clock 
in the morning till between six and seven at night ; and then 
felt quite happy to be permitted to run three ox four miles into 
the country to hear a sermon ! By these means he was gene- 
rally enabled to hear four sermons a-week, when the preacher 
was in that part of the country : and none could say, that to 
attend this preaching he had ever left undone one half-hour's 
work, or omitted to perform any thing in its proper season. 
Far from making him slothful, the desire he had for his sal- 
vation, tended to make him still more active in the secular con- 
cerns of the family. Formerly he could while away time, 
and often play when he should have been at work : now, he 
did every thing from conscience, he served his father as he 
would have served the merest stranger, in whose employment 



INCREASING KNOWLEDGE OF RELIGION. 



he should spend every hour of the day. Nay. to labour with 
his hands was now his delight. — he felt the full force of those 
words of the apostle. Not slothful in business, fervent in 
spirit serving the Lord. From his own experience he could 
say, / love to work with my hands ; and as he saw others who 
were under the same religious concern doubly active in their 
affairs of life, while earnestly seeking the salvation of their 
souls, he knew that the reproach which many raised against 
those who were so intent in their attendance on the means of 
grace — Ye are idle, ye are slothful, — ye do not love work — ye 
■neglect your families to gad after preaching, &c. — was a 
most unfounded slander, deduced from Pharaoh the firstper- 
secutor of the Church of God ; and shamelessly continued 
until now. He ever bore testimony.* that he had found in all 
his own religious experience, and in the acquaintance he had 
with the work of God in others, that men became economists 
of time, and diligent in their avocations, in proportion as they 
were earnest for the salvation of their souls.' This reproach 
has long been urged against the Methodists, by those who 
had no religion ; because the diligence of the former in their 
spiritual concerns, was a standing reproof to the others who 
were living without a Scriptural hope, and without God in 
the world. 

Prayer also was his delight. He could no longer be satis- 
fied with morning and evening ; he was awakened from the 
dream that this was sufficient, by the following questions of 
Mr. Barber. ' ; Adam, do you think that God, for Christ's 
sake, has forgiven you your sins?" No, Sir, I have no evi- 
dence of this. Adam, do you pray ?-" Yes, Sir. " How 
often do you pray in private ? M Every morning and evening. 
' : Adam, did you ever hear of any person finding peace with 
God, who only prayed in private twice in the day?"'' He felt 
ashamed and confounded ; and discerned at once that he was 
not sufficiently in earnest, nor sufficiently awakened to a due 
sense of his state. Though he could say, that often during 
the day, he was accustomed to lift up his heart to God ; yet 
he was not then aware that this requires much less light and 
heat than are requisite in solemn pleading with God. 

He now began to quicken his pace, for he heard in almost 
every sermon, that it was the privilege of all the people of 
God to know, by the testimony of the Holy Spirit in their 
consciences, that their sins were forgiven them, for Christ's 
sake ; and that when they became adopted into the heavenly 
family, and were made children of God, God sent forth the 
Spirit of his Son into their hearts, crying Abba, Father. 
This he earnestly sought, but was damped in his ardor after 
this blessing by the sayings of many, of whose judgment he 
had a favourable opinion, that to know their sins forgiven 
them, was the privilege only of a few. and those- the most fa- 



INCREASING KNOWLEDGE OF RELIGION. 



93 



roured of God's people. On this point they made the follow- 
ing distinctions : — 

" There is a twofold species of saving faith, — the faith of 
assurance, and the faith of adherence. The former the pri- 
vilege of very few ; the latter, the privilege of all true Chris- 
tians. The former the most comfortable, but the latter equal- 
ly safe. Trusting in an unseen Christ, will deceive no man : 
but if he may have the comforts of the Spirit, so much the 
better." 

He now determined to search the Scriptures to see whether 
these things were so ; and as he had never yet read the New 
Testament regularly through, he began that work ; and, with 
deep attention and earnest prayer, read over the whole from 
beginning to end ; spending in this employment almost every 
leisure moment. With this diligence the merciful God was 
well pleased, for he shed light both upon his heart, and upon 
his book. It was indeed a new book to him, — he read, and felt, 
and wept, and prayed ; was often depressed, then encquraged; 
his eyes were opened, and he beheld wonders in this divine 
Law. By this reading he acquired and fixed his Creed in all 
its articles, not one of which he ever after found reason tc 
change, though he had not as yet that full confidence of each, 
which he afterwards acquired. At this time he had read 
none of the writings of the Methodists ; and from them he 
never learned that creed, which, on after examination, he 
found to be precisely the same with theirs. He could say, " I 
have not received my creed from man, nor by man." He 
learned it — (without consulting bodies of divinity, human 
creeds, confessions of faith, or such like,) — from the fountain 
head of truth, the Oracles of the living God. 

He now felt increasing anxiety, not only for his own soul, 
but for those of his family, his school-fellows, and his neigh- 
bours. He rejoiced to see numbers attending the word preach- 
ed, and a society formed in an adjoining village called Mulli- 
hicall, though himself never thought of becoming a member 
in it, or in any other. His mother had gone to see how what 
was called- class-meeting was conducted, and on her return 
spoke highly of the meeting." She desired her son Adam to 
accompany her the next Lord's day to the said meeting. He 
went with some reluctance. After singing and prayer, the 
leader spoke to each person severally concerning his spiritual 
state. Adam listened with deep attention, and was surprised 
to hear one of his neighbours speak to this effect : "I was 
once darkness, but now I am light in the Lord : I was once 
a slave to sin, but now I am made free by the grace of Christ : 
I once felt the horrors of a guilty conscience, but now I know 
and feel that God has blotted out my sms." He was deep- 
ly struck with these declarations ; and though he knew that 
this man had been a giddy foolish trifler, a drummer to a 



94 



INCREASING? KNOWLEDGE OF RELIGION. 



company of volunteers, yet knowing that he had seriously at* 



truth of this testimony. Some others expressed themselves in 
the same way ; while others deplored their hardness of heart, 
and darkness' of mind. He now began to feel very uneasy : 
he thought " this is no place for me to be in : I have no right 
to be here : these people should have none to witness their 
religious meetings, but those who belong to some society 
and. in short, he felt grieved that his mother' should have been 
so inconsiderate as to have brought him there. He was afraid 
lest fne leader should question him ; and he knew he had no- 
thing to say that would be creditable to himself or profitable 
to others : at last he was questioned, and got off with a sort 
of general answer. The meeting broke up. and he was re- 
turning home, melancholy and unhappy. The leader, Mr. 
Andrew Hunter, of Coleraine. joined him on the road, and 
began to speak to him on spiritual matters, in a most affec- 
tionate and pathetic way : earnestly pressed him to give his 
whole heart to God ; for, said he, You may be a burning and 
shining light in a benighted land. Why these words should 
have deeply affected him he could not tell ; but so it was ; he 
was cut to the heart : instead of being rich and increased in 
spiritual goods, as he once fondly thought, he now saw that he 
was wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked. 
All his past diligence, prayer, reading, &c, appeared as no- 
thing. — in vain he looked within and without for something to 
recommend him to God; but there was nothing, — multitudes 
of evils which before were undiscovered, were now pointed out 
to his conscience as by a sun-beam. He was filled with con- 
fusion and distress ; wherever he looked he saw nothing but 
himself. The light which penetrated his mind, led him into 
all the chambers of the house of imagery : and everywhere 
he saw idols set up in opposition to the worship of the true 
God. He wished to flee from himself, and looked with envy 
on stocks and stones, for they had not offended a just God, 
and were incapable of bearing his displeasure. 

The season was fine, the fields were beautifully clothed with 
green, the herds browsed contentedlv in their pastures, and the 
birds were singing melodiously, some in the air, some in the 
trees and bushes; but, alas, his eyes and his ears were now 
no longer inlets to pleasure. In point of gratification, nature 
was to him a universal blank, for he felt himself destitute of 
the image and approbation of his Maker; and, besides this con- 
sciousness, there needed no other hell to constitute his misery. 
His doleful language was, ;; that I knew where I migfit 
find Him. that I might come even to his seat 1 Behold, I go 
forward, but he is not there : and backward, but I cannot per- 
ceive Him : on the left hand, where be doth work, but I can- 
not behold Him, he hideth himself on the right hand, that I 



tended the preaching for some 




DOUBTS INSTILLED INTO HIS MIND. 



95 



cannot see Him." — Job xxiii. 3, 8, 9. He was afraid even to 
look towards God, because he felt himself unholy, and yet he 
knew that his help could come from none other than Him 
whom he had offended ; and whose image he did not bear, 
and consequently could not have his approbation. On a sub- 
ject of this kind, even an enemy to the Christian faith, may 
teach an important truth. " It was once demanded of the 
fourth Calif Aalee, 'If the canopy of heaven were a bow, and 
the earth were the cord thereof ; if calamities were arrows, 
and mankind were the mark for these arrows ! and if almighty 
God, the tremendous and the glorious, were the unerring 
Archer, to whom could the sons of Adam flee for protection V 
The Calif answered, saying; 'The sons of Adam must flee 
unto the Lord.' " — Teemour. 

Mr. Barber, who had always watched over him for good, 
and had lately formed a class of those who desired to save their 
souls ; — without acquainting him with it, had entered Adam^s 
name among the rest. When he heard this, it did not please 
him, but he said, " Since they have put down my name, I will, 
by the help of God, meet with them and he did so for seve- 
ral weeks. One morning he was detained by illness : the next 
time he permitted a trifling hinderance to prevent him : and the 
third morning he felt no desire to go : thus he was absent 
three weeks. 

It pleased God at this time to permit Satan to sift him as 
wheat. It was a strong article in his creed that the Passion 
and Death of Christ were held out through the whole of the 
New Testament as sacrificial and expiatory ; and that His 
Death was a sufficient ransom, sacrifice, and atonement for the 
sin of the world: for He, by the grace of God, had tasted death 
for every man. This doctrine was the only basis of his hope ; 
and yet he had not that faith by which he could lay hold on the 
merit* of that Sacrifice for his personal salvation. Were this 
foundation to be destroyed, what could he do, or where flee for 
refuge ? How it was shaken in his mind I am about to relate. 

He had long been intimate in the house of a very respect- 
able family in the neighbourhood. He was there as their own 
child : for him they had all a very strong affection, and he felt 
for them in return, both affection and reverence. One evening 
the conversation in the family turned on the Doctrine of the 
Atonement; and some observations then made filled his soul 
with doubts and fears. It was, in short, stated by one present, 
that, " the Methodists were guilty of idolatry, for they gave 
that worship to Jesus Christ that belonged to the Father only." 
He came home full of confusion : " What have I been doing ? 
Have I been adding idolatry to all the rest of my transgres- 
sions ? Have I had two Gods instead of one V He went into 
the boviere, (shippon,) the first place he came to, and kneeled 
down among the cattle, and began to ask pardon of God, fear- 



96 



DOUBTS INSTILLED INTO HIS MIND. 



ing that he had given that glory to another, which was due to 
Him alone. He was not satisfied, however, with this; he 
thought he should go farther, and leave the name of Christ 
out of all his prayers ; this proceeded so far that he did not like 
to converse about Him. What he had lately heard, represent- 
ed Him to his mind as an usurper ; and at last he could not 
bear to see His name in any religious book. Darkness now 
entered into his mind, his spiritual fervor gradually diminished, 
till it was at last entirely gone. He prayed, but it was a form: 
he read, but it was without unction. He felt this lamentable 
change, and began earnestly to inquire whence it had arisen ? 
Importunate prayer, his former refuge, was suggested to his 
mind, as the only help ; for he had none to whom he could 
open his heart. That he might not be perceived by any of 
the family, he went once more among the cattle, a place to 
which he had often resorted, and fell down before his Maker, 
and prayed to this effect, — u O Lord God Almighty, look with 
pity on the state of my scul! I am sinful, ignorant, and con- 
fused. I know not what to say, or what to believe. If I be in 
an error, O Lord God, lead me into thy truth ! Thou knowest 
I would not deceive myself: Thou knowest I esteem thy ap- 
probation beyond life itself. O, my God, teach me what is 
right ! if I be in an error, O shew it to me, and deliver me from 
it ! O deliver me from it, and teach me Thy truth ! O God hear, 
and have mercy upon me,— -for the sake of Jesus Christ !" — * 
These last words had no sooner dropped from his lips, than he 
started as if alarmed at himself. " What ! have I been again pray- 
ing in the name of Jesus ? was this right V Immediately his 
soul was filled with light, the name of Jesus was like the most 
odoriferous ointment poured out, he could clasp it to his heart, 
and say, " Yes, my only Lord and Saviour, thou hast died for 
me,— by Thee alone I can come unto God, — there is no other 
Name given from heaven among men by which we can be 
saved ! Through the merit of thy Blood, I will take confidence, 
and approach unto God ! He now felt that he was deli- 
vered from those depths of Satan, by which his soul was nearly 
engulphed. 

This narrow escape from sentiments which would have been 
fatal, if not finally ruinous to him, he ever held as a most spe- 
cial interference of God ; and he always found it his duty to 
caution men strongly against the Arian and Socinian errors. 
It was this, without any suggestions from man, led him to exa- 
mine the reputed orthodox, but spurious doctrin e, of the Eternal 
Sonship of Christ ; which he soon found, and has since de- 
monstrated, that no man can hold, and hold the eternal unori- 
ginated nature of Jesus Christ. For, if His divine nature be 
in any sense whatever derived, His eternity, and by conse- 
quence His Godhead, is destroyed ; and if His Godhead, then 
His Atonement. On this point he has produced a simple argu- 



Christ's eternal sonship. 



9? 



ment in his Note on Luke i. 35, which is absolutely unanswer- 
able. Attempts have been made to confute his doctrine, but 
they are all absurd, as long as that argument remains unan- 
swered. 

The argument is simply this : — " 1. If Christ be the Son 
of God , as to his Divine Nature, then he cannot be eternal, 
for Son implies a Father ; and Father implies, in reference 
to Son, precedence in time, if not in nature too. Father and 
Son imply the notion of generation, and generation implies a 
time in which it was effected ; and time also antecedent to 
such generation. 2. If Christ be the Son of God, as to his 
Divine nature, then the Father is of necessity prior, conse- 
quently, in Godhead superior to him. 3. Again, if this Divine 
nature were begotten of the Father, then it must have been 
in time, i. e. there must have been a period in which it did not 
exist ; and a period when it began to exist. This destroys 
the eternity of our blessed Lord, and fobs him at once of his 
Godhead. 4. To say that he was begotten from all eternity, 
is absurd; and the phrase Eternal Son is a positive self-con- 
tradiction. Eternity is that which had no beginning, and 
stands in no reference to time. Son supposes time, genera- 
tion, and father, and time also antecedent to such generation ; 
therefore, the theologic conjunction of these two terms, son 
and eternity, is absolutely impossible, as they imply essentially 
different and opposite ideas."* 

The Reader will see from this case, which I have circum- 
stantially related : — 1. How dangerous it is for young converts 
to go into the company not merely of the ungodly, but of those 
who are given to doubtful disputations. 2. How completely 
subversive it must be to a penitent soul to frequent the com- 
pany of those, howsoever decent and orderly they may be in 
their conduct, who deny, as a vicarious Atonement, the Lord 
that bought them. Take away this foundation, and it is utterly 
impossible for any true penitent to entertain any hope of mercy. 

3. People may hold this doctrine who never felt the guilt of 
sin, their own sore, and the plague of their heart ; but let a 
man see himself a sinner, contemplate the infinite purity and 
justice of God, and the awful strictness of his law ; and then 
he will feel that in heaven, in earth, in time, in eternity, there 
is neither hope nor help for his soul, if he have not a Sacrifice 
to bring to the Divine Majesty, of merit sufficient to atone for 
all his crimes, and give him a right to an inheritance among 
them that are sanctified. It is trifling with conscience to talk 
of confiding in the Divine benevolence, while the fragments of 
a broken law are every where lying under the sinner's feet. 

4. A. C.'s mind, while he was looking for Redemption through 
* On this subject I am aware that much difference of opinion exists 

in the Established Church : some holding the doctrine, others deny- 
ing it. 

9 



OS DOUBTS EXPELLED BY INWARD KNOWLEDGE. 



the Blood of the covenant, was imbued, with divine fervour ; 
he ran the ways of God's commandments, and was exemplary 
in every part of his conduct, as well as fervent in his devo- 
tion ; but when his faith in the Atonement w^as for even a 
short time staggered by subtle insinuations, his devotion w r as 
damped, his spiritual affections paralysed, he grew weary of 
a cross which he had no strength to bear, and though he w T as 
preserved from all outward sin, and was orderly in his deport- 
ment, piety towards God no longer triumphed, he lost all com- 
fort, and indeed all prospect of it, and became good for nothing. 
This was not a solitary case: all who have abandoned the 
doctrine of Christ crucified for the sin of the world, have been 
affected in a similar way. Those brought up in the opposite 
creed, seem to suffer less from it than those do who apostatise 
from what is called the orthodox faith. 5. We see in this 
place the kindness of God : He never will abandon them who 
sincerely seek Him. tie heard the prayer of this sincere dis- 
tressed young man : and instead of suggesting arguments to 
his mind, by which he might successfully combat the opposing 
doctrine, He impressed his heart at once with the truth; and 
answered his prayer to be led into the right way, bv leading 
him in a moment to pray with confidence, in the name of Je- 
sus. This was what he could not do before ; and in this peti- 
tion, every objection w T as either answered or absorbed. 

A. C. has often been led to observe that, in this temporary 
perversion of his creed, Satan had more influence than the 
arguments he had heard against the truth : they were slight 
and transient, they perplexed the mind a little ; the great en- 
emy took advantage of the temporary confusion, and for some 
days, fished successfully in the troubled waters. 

Having again got upon the Rock, he had once more a com- 
fortable prospect of the promised land, and set out afresh for 
the heavenly rest. Though greatly encouraged, he had not 
yet found rest for his soul. He heard others talk of the Wit- 
ness of the Spirit, and knew several who rejoiced in it w r ith 
joy unspeakable ; and he was determined never to give -up, 
till he w^as made a partaker of the same grace. His distress 
was great, yet it neither arose from a fear of hell^ nor from 
any consciousness of God's hatred to him, but from the deep- 
felt want of the approbation and Image of God. 

In seeking this, he had a species of mournful rejoicing, and 
often vented and expressed the feelings of his heart in w T ords, 
expressive of his ardent desire to experience the power and 
peace, the pardon and salvation of his God. 

In this state of mind, he thought it right to receive for 
the first time, the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. This 
design he communicated to Mr. Barber, who encouraged him 
in it ; but, as the Rubric requires, that those who intend to re- 
ceive the Holy Sacrament, shall signify their intentions some 



PREPARES TO RECEIVE THE SACRAMENT. 



99 



time before, to the minister ; he purposed to wait on Mr. Smith, 
the Rector, and signify his wish, and ask his permission. He 
accordingly went, and Mr. S. received him with great affection 
and tenderness. He was much affected in witnessing so 
strong a desire in so young a person; and said, "I should be 
glad, Master Clarke, if you would go to the Rev. Mr. Younge, 
of Coleraine, he is a very wise and good man, and will exa- 
mine you, and give you the best advice ; and if you will go 
now, I -will write a note by you to Mr. Younge." Adam 
agreed, and went. Mr. Younge also behaved towards him 
with much tenderness and affability, ^examined him out of the 
Catechism, and particularly explained the last answer to him, 
relative to the duty of them who come to the Sacrament of 
the Lord's Supper: viz. "To examine themselves whether 
they repent them truly of their former sins, — whether they 
steadfastly purpose to lead a new life, — have a lively faith in 
God's mercy, through Christ, with a thankful remembrance 
of his Death ; and be in charity with all men :." and observed, 
" It is not your being able to say this by heart, that is the qua- 
lification here required ; but your heart must be impressed 
with, and feel all these things." The answers of Adam 
seemed to be satisfactory to Mr. Younge, for he wrote a note 
back to Mr. Smith, which when he read, he seemed quite re- 
joiced, and said, " Mr. Y. tells me that I may safety admit 
you to the Lord's table." • 

As he was now about to perform one of the most solemn 
acts of his life, and was greatly afraid of communicating un- 
V'orthily, and so eating and drinking his own damnation, (as 
it is unhappily expressed, 1 Cor. xi. 29, instead of condemna- 
tion,) he purposed to go through the Week's Preparation ; 
a book which, however well intended, has been the means of 
misleading many, by causing them to trust in the punctual 
performance of the duties therein required, for a short time 
before that sacred ordinance, without that change of heart and 
life so essentially necessary to the Christian character. Adam, 
however, used it with earnest and deep concern ; and as, in 
the course of that week, he was obliged to go a short journey 
on his father's business, which took up the whole day, (Thurs- 
day.) and he could not go through the prescribed prayers and 
meditations ; for fear of coming short, he did double *work on 
Friday, and brought the two days into one ! If this were mis- 
taken piety, it was at least sincere. 

On the morning of Easter Sunday, the day appointed for 
the Sacrament, he repaired to the church ; and after sermon 
went with his father to the Communion Table. When Mr. 
Smith came to him with the sacred bread, he» was much 
affected, and when he had said, The body of our Lord Jesus 
Christ which was given for thee, he was quite overcome ; he 
sobbed, the tears gushed from his eyes, and he could not for 



100 



RECEIVING THE SACRAMENT. 



some seconds proceed to the end of the sentence. Here was 
one proof of a godly pastor ; he felt especially for the young 
of his flock, and was ready to carry the lambs in his bosom. 
In this holy ordinance Adam's mind was deeply impressed 
with the necessity of giving himself wholly up to the service 
of God ; and he considered the act of communicating, as one 
by which he had most solemnly and publicly bound himself to 
be all that Christianity requires in her votaries, through His 
especial assistance, by whom that Christianity came. . But he 
did not receive it as a seal of the pardon of his sins ; or as a 
pledge of the kingdom of heaven. Nothing could satisfy him, 
but a pardon felt in his heart, and registered in his conscience 
by the light and power of the Holy Spirit ; and he well knew, 
that an entry into the kingdom of glory, depended on his living 
to God in this world, regaining the divine image, and dying 
with Christ in him the hope of glory. He received it there- 
fore as a memorial of the Sacrifice of Christ, by which pardon, 
holiness, and heaven, were purchased for mankind. 

It would be well if all communicants, and all pastors, treat- 
ed this most sacred ordinance as young Clarke and his minis- 
ter did. On both sides it was supposed, and properly, that 
too much caution could not be used. Adam on his part, at- 
tended conscientiously to the rubric, and consulted his minis- 
ter : the minister on his part, proceeded with a godly caution, 
lest he should distribute improperly those sacred elements. — 
Is not the same caution still necessary ! but is it in general 
observed ? Why is not this ordinance which represents the 
agony and bloody sweat, the cross and passion, the precious 
death and burial, and in a word, the redemption of a lost 
world, by the sacrificial offering of the Lord Jesus, more de- 
voutly and frequently impressed on the minds of young 
hearers, with the solemnity of that obligation ? Let proper 
warning be given, and strong exhortation to due preparation ; 
for surely it is as possible now to eat and drink our own con- 
demnation in England, as it was to the Greek converts, eighteen 
hundred years ago, in Corinth. 

Though often encouraged, so that he 

" Seemed to sit with cherubs bright, 
Some moments on a throne of lote," 

he had not y et found that peace and assurance of which he 
was in pursuit : and it may seem strange, that one who was 
following God so sincerely, should have been so long without 
that powerful consolation of religion. But God is Sovereign 
of his own ways ; and he gives and withholds according to his 
godly wisdom. Adam was ever ready to vindicate the ways 
of God in this respect. " It was necessary," said he, tt that / 
should have hard travail. God was preparing me for an im- 
portant work. I must, emphatically, sell all to get the pearl 



ACQUAINTANCE WITH GOD. 



101 



of great price. If I had lightly come by the consolations of 
the Gospel, I might have let them go as lightly. It was good 
that I bore the yoke in my youth. The experience that I 
learned in my long tribulation, was none of the least of my 
qualifications as a minister of the Gospel." 

He was now come to that point, beyond which God did not 
think proper any longer to delay the manifestation of Himself 
to the soul of his ardent follower: and indeed such were his 
concern and distress, that had it been longer deferred, the spi- 
rit that God had made, would have failed before him. 

One morning, in great distress of soul, he went out to his 
work in the field : he beg'an, but could not proceed, so great 
was his spiritual anguish. He fell down on his knees on the 
earth, and prayed, but seemed to be without power or faith. 
He arose, endeavoured to work, but could not : even his phy- 
sical strength appeared to have departed from him. He again 
endeavoured to pray, but the gate of heaven seemed as if bar - 
red against him. His faith in the Atonement, so far as it con- 
cerned himself, was almost entirely gone; he could not believe 
that Jesus had died for him ; the thickest darkness seemed to 
gather round, and settle on his soul. He fell flat on his face 
on the earth, and endeavoured to pray, but still there was no 
answer : he arose, but he was so w r eak, that he could scarcely 
stand. His agonies were indescribable ; he seemed to be for 
ever separated from God and the glory of His power. Death. 
in any form, he could have preferred to his present feelings, if 
that death could have put an end to them. No fear of hell 
produced these terrible conflicts. He had not God's approba- 
tion ; he had not God's image. He felt that without a sense 
of his favour, he could not live. Where to go, what to say, 
and what to do, he found not ; even the words of prayer at last 
failed ; he could neither plead nor wrestle with God. 

O, Reader, lay these things to heart. Here was a lad that 
had never been a profligate, had been brought up in the fear of 
God, and who, for a considerable time had been earnestly seek- 
ing His peace, apparently cut off from life and hope ! This did 
not arise from any natural infirmity of his own mind: — none 
who knew him, in any period of his life, could suspect this : — 
it was a sense of the displeasure of a holy God, from having 
sinned against him ; and yet his sins were those of a little 
boy, which most would be disposed to pass by ; for he was not 
of an age to be guilty of flagrant crimes ; and yet how sorely 
did he suffer, in seeking to be born again ; to have his con- 
science purged from dead works, and to have his nature re- 
newed ! — He was then being prepared for that work to which 
he was afterwards to be called ; the struggle was great, that 
he himself might not easily turn again to folly, and thus bring 
condemnation on himself, and a reproach upon God's cause ; 
and it was, in all probability, necessary thrt he should expe- 



102 



ACQUAINTANCE AND 



rience this deep anguish, that feeling the bitterness of sin, he 
might warn others more earnestly ; and knowing the throes 
and travail of a sinner's soul, he might speak assuredly to the 
most despairing, of the power of Christ's Sacrifice, and cf the 
indwelling consolations of the Spirit of God. — God appeared 
to have turned aside his ways, and 'pulled him to pieces ; — 
He had bent his bow, and made him a mark for His arrows: 
he was filled with bitterness, and made drunken as with worm- 
wood : — his soul was removed far off from peace, and he for 
gat prosperity. Yet even here, though his stroke was heavier 
than his groaning, he could say, " It is of the Lord's mercies 
that I am not consumed." — Lam. iii. 11 — £2. See him in his 
agony upon the bare ground, almost petrified with anguish, 
and dumb with grief! Reader, hast thou sinned? Hast thou 
repented ? Hast thou peace with thy God, or art thou still in 
the gall of bitterness, and bond of iniquity? These are solemn, 
yea, awful questions. May God enable thee to answer them 
to the safety of thy soul ! 

But we must return to him whom we have left in agonies in- 
describable. It is said, the time of mail's extremity is the time 
of God's opportunity. He now felt strongly in his soul, Pray 
to Christ ; — another word for, Come to the Holiest through the 
Blood of Jesus. He looked up confidently to the Saviour of 
sinners, his agony subsided, his soul became calm. A glow 
of happiness seemed to thrill through his whole frame, all 
guilt and condemnation were gone. He examined his con- 
science, and found it no longer a register of sins against God. 
He looked to heaven, and all was sunshine ; he searched for his 
distress, but could not find it. He felt indescribably happy, 
but could not tell the cause ; — a change had taken place within 
him, of a nature wholly unknown before, and for which he had 
no name. He sat down upon the ridge where he had been 
working, full of ineffable delight. He praised God, and he 
could not describe for what, — for he could give no name to his 
work. Hfs heart was light, his physical strength returned, 
and he could bound like a roe. He felt a sudden transition 
from darkness to light — from guilt and oppressive fear, to con- 
fidence and peace. He could now draw nigh to God with 
more confidence than he ever could to his earthly father : — he 
had freedom of access, and he had freedom of speech. He 
was like a person who had got into a new world, where al- 
though every object was strange, yet each was pleasing ; and 
now he could magnify God for his creation, a thing he 
never could do before ! O what a change was here ! and yet, 
lest he should be overwhelmed with it, its name and its nature 
were in a great measure hidden from his eyes. Shortly after, 
his friend Mr. Barber came to his father's house : when he 
departed, Adam accompanied him a little on the way. When 
they came in sight of the field that had witnessed the agonies 



PEACE WITH GOD. 



103 



of his heart and the breaking of his chains, he told Mr. B. 
what had taken place. The man of God took off his hat, and 
with tears flowing down his cheeks, gave thanks unto God. 
11 Adam," said he, " I rejoice in this ; I have been daily in ex- 
pectation that God would shine upon your soul, and bless you 
with the adoption of his children." Adam stared at him, and 
said within himself, " O, he thinks surely that I am justified, 
that God has forgiven me my sins, that I am now his child. 
O, blessed be God, I believe, I feel I am justified, through the 
Redemption that is in Jesus." Now he clearly saw what God 
had done; and although he hafl felt the blessing before, and 
was happy in the possession of it, it was only now that he 
could call it by its name. Now, he saw and felt, that "being 
justified by faith, he had peace with God, through our Lord 
Jesus Christ, by whom he had received the atonement." 

He continued in peace and happiness all the week: the 
next Lord's day there was a love-feast in Coleraine ; — he went 
to it, and during the first prayer, kneeled in a corner with his 
face to the wall. While praying, the Lord Jesus seemed to 
appear to the eyes of his mind, as he is described, Rev. i. 13, 
14. clothed with a garment down to his feet, and girt about 
the breasts with a golden girdle : his head and his hair white 
as snow, and his eyes like a flame of fire. And though in 
strong prayer before, he suddenly stopped, and said, though not 
perhaps in a voice to be heard by those who were by him — 
" Come nearer, Oh! Lord Jesus, that I may see thee more dis- 
tinctly." Immediately he felt as if God had shone upon the work 
he had wrought, and called it by its own name ; he fully, and 
clearly knew that he was a child of God ; the Spirit of God 
bore this witness in his conscience, and he could no more 
have doubted of it, than he could have doubted of the reality 
of his existence, or the identity of his person. — 

" Meridian evidence put doubt to flight." 

Id ordinary minds, or those naturally feeble, all this might 
pass for delusion ; his penitential fears and distresses might 
appear as the effects of a gloomy superstition ; and his sub- 
sequent peace and happiness, and the sudden nature of his 
inward change, as the consequences of the workings of a 
strong imagination, apt, under religious impressions, to de- 
generate into enthusiasm. 

The Reader may rest assured that no one was more jealous 
on these points than the person in question. He was accus- 
tomed to examine every thing to the bottom ; and, as it ever 
was a maxim with him, that Revelation and reason went 
hand in hand ; — that neither contained any thing contrary to 
the other ;— so he sought in each, for proofs of those things 
contained in its fellow. He was ever afraid of being deceived, 



104 



REFLECTIONS ON THE 



and that led him scrupulously to examine every thing that 
professed to come from God. He believed nothing in salva- 
tion on the mere assertion of any man : nor did he yield con- 
sent at any time, till Revelation and its handmaid reason, had 
said, these things are true. 

Preaching once in Plymouth, on the Witness of the Spirit 
in the souls, of believers : — after having produced and com- 
mented on those Scriptures, which are supposed most point- 
edly to contain that doctrine, he said, — 

" It might have been doubt^l that we have misunderstood 
these Scriptures, and made them the basis of an article, which 
they do not fairly and naturally support, if the general testi- 
mony of all the sincere converts to the gospel of Christ had 
not illustrated the facts ; and had not the experience of those 
converts been uniform in this particular, while in many cases, 
their habits of life, education, and natural Temperament, were 
widely different. And this not only among persons bred up 
with the same general views of Christianity, — in the same 
Christian communion ; but among persons bred up in different 
communions, with creeds in many respects diametrically op- 
posite to each other ! And farther, this has been the same in 
persons of different climates and countries. All those who 
have been convinced of sin, righteousness, and judgment — 
have truly repented of their sins, and taken refuge in the Blood 
of the Cross ; have had their burden of guilt taken away, and 
the peace of God communicated, and with it the Spirit of God 
witnessing with their spirit that they were the sons and 
daughters of God Almighty : so that they had no more doubt 
of their acceptance with God, than they had of their existence. 

"But it may be objected farther : — the human mind easily 
gets under the dominion of superstition and imagination ; and 
then a variety of feelings, apparently divine, may be accounted 
for on natural principles. To this I answer — 1st. Superstition 
is never known to produce settled peace and happiness , — it is 
generally the parent of gloomy apprehensions and irrational 
fears : but surely the man who has broken the laws of his 
Maker, and lived in open rebellion against him, cannot be sup- 
posed to be under the influence of superstition, when he is ap- 
prehensive of the wrath of God, and fears to fall into the bitter 
pains of an eternal death? Such fears are as rational as they 
are scriptural ; and the broken and contrite heart, is ever con- 
sidered, through the whole Oracles of God, , as essentially ne- 
cessary to the finding redemption in Christ. Therefore, such 
fears, feelings and apprehensions, are. not the offspring of a 
\gloomy superstition : but the fruit and evidence of a genuine 
scriptural repentance. 2dly. Imagination cannot long sup- 
port a mental imposture. To persuade the soul that it is oassed 
from darkness to light, — that it is in the favor of God, — that it 
is an heir of glory, &c, will require strong excitement indeed: 



WITNESS OP THE SPIRIT. 



105 



and the stronger the exciting cause, or stimulus t the sooner 
the excitability, and its effects will be exhausted. A person 
may imagine himself for a moment to be a king, or to be a 
child of God; but that reverie, where there is no radical de- 
rangement of mind, must be transient. The person must soon 
awake and return to himself. 3d. But it is impossible that ima- 
gination can have any thing to do in this case, any farther than 
any other faculty of the mind, in natural operation : for, the 
person must walk according as he is directed by the Word of 
God, abhorring evil, and cleaving to that which is good : and 
the sense of God's approbation in his conscience, lasts no long- 
er than he acts under the spirit of obedience: God continuing 
the evidence of his approbation to his conscience while he walks 
in newness of life. Has imagination ever produced a life of 
piety ? Now, multitudes are found who have had this testi- 
mony uninterruptedly for many years together. Could imagi- 
nation produce this ? If so, it is an unique case ; for there is 
none other in which an excitement of the imagination has sus- 
tained the impression with any such permanence. And all 
the operations of this faculty prove, that, to an effect of this 
kind, it is vjholly inadequate. If then it can sustain impres- 
sions in spiritual matters for years together, this must be totally 
prefer natural, and the effecf of a miraculous operation ; — and 
thus miracle must be resorted to, to explain away a doctrine, 
which some men, because they themselves do not experience 
it, deny that any others can. 

" But might I, without offence, speak a word concerning my- 
self? A great necessity alone, would vindicate to my own 
mind the introduction, in this public way, of any thing relative 
to myself. But you will bear with my folly, should any of 
you think it such. I, also, have professed to know that God, 
for Christ's sake, hath forgiven me all my sins ; and being thus 
converted, I am come forth to strengthen my brethren, and preach 
among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ. Most 
of you know that I am no enthusiast, — that I have given no 
evidences of a strong imagination,- — that I am far from being 
the subject of sudden hopes ox fears, — that it requires strong 
reasons and clear argumentation to convince me of the truth 
of any proposition, not previously known. Now, I do profess 
to have received, through God's eternal mercy, a clear evidence 
of my acceptance with God ; and it was given me after a sore 
night of spiritual affliction ; and precisely in that way in which 
the Scriptures, already quoted, promise this blessing. It has 
also been accompanied with power over sin; and it is now 
upwards of seven years since I received it, and I hold it, 
through the same mercy, as explicitly, as clearly, and as 
satisfactorily as ever. No work of imagination could have 
ever produced or maintained any feeling like this. I am, 
therefore, safe -in affirming, for all these reasons, that we 



106 RELIGION IS FOR MAN. NOT GOD. 

have neither misunderstood nor misapplied the Scriptures in 
question, 5 * 

The subsequent experience of A. C. equally verified the trutl 
of the preceding statements. 



We have now brought down the account of this, in many 
respects, singular person, to an era which he ever considered 
the most important in his religious life : for now he had gain- 
ed decisive experimental proof of the truth of the articles of 
his creed : and each point was confirmed to him with greater 
evidence. Now, he could give a reason of the hope that was 
in him ; and in every respect, his own faith was justified to 
his understanding. He had found true happiness in religion : 
and this he knew it must afford, if it were of God: for he 
saw, that Religion was a commerce between God and man ; 
and was intended to be the means of re-establishing him in 
that communion with his Maker, and the happiness conse- 
quent on it, which he had lost by the fall. 

All notions of religion, merely as a system of duties which 
we owe to God, fell, in his apprehension, infinitely short of its 
nature and intention. To the perfection, happiness, or grati- 
fication, of the infinite mind, no creature can be necessary. 
Religion was not made for God ; but for man. It is an insti- 
tution of the Divine Benevolence, for human happiness. Nor 
can God be pleased with any man's religion or faith, but as 
far as they lead him to happiness. — ?'. e. to the enjoyment of 
God ; without which there can be no felicity ; for God is the 
Source of intellectual happiness, and from him alone, it can 
be derived: and in union with whom alone, it ean be enjoy- 
ed. Animal gratifications may be acquired by means of the 
various matters that are suited to the senses : but gratification 
and happiness are widely different : the former may exist where 
the latter is entirelv unknown. 

After this, A. C. continued a little longer at school. Though 
he could not well enter into the spirit of Lucian and Juvenal, 
which he then read ; yet he was surprised to find how easy, 
in comparison of former times, learning appeared. The grace 
which he had received, greatly illumined and improved his 
understanding and judgment. Difficulties seemed to have 
vanished, and learning appeared now little more to him, than an 
exercise and cultivation of memory. He has been often heard 
to say : " After I found the peace of God to my conscience ; 
and was assured of my interest in the Lord Jesus ; I believe 
I may safely assert, that I learned more in one day, on an 
average, than formerly I could do, with equal application, in 
a whole month. And no wonder, my soul began to rise out 
of the ruins of its fall, by the favour of the Eternal Spirit. 



INTELLECT BRIGHTENED BY SPIRITUAL KNOWLEDGE. 107 

it was not on the affections or the passions, this Spirit work- 
ed ; but upon understanding, judgment, and will : these be- 
ing rectified and brought under a divine influence, the lower 
faculties came on in their train, purified and refined. The 
change in my heart was the effect of the change in my im- 
mortal spirit. I saw, from my own case, that religion was 
the gate to true learning and science ; and that those who went 
through their studies without this, had, at least, double work 
to do ; and, in the end, not an equal produce. My mind be- 
came enlarged to take in any thing useful. I was now sepa- 
rated from every thing that could impede my studies, obscure 
or debase my mind. Learning and science I knew came from 
God, because, he is the Fountain of all knowledge : and, pro- 
perly speaking, these things belong to man ; — God created 
them, not for Himself— not for angels — but for man ; and he 
fulfils not the design of his Creator, who does not cultivate his 
mind in all useful knowledge, to the utmost of his circum- 
stances and power." 

At the same time, he was convinced that studies, which 
were not connected with religion, and which did not lead to 
God, not having His will and glory for their objects, could 
never be sanctified ; and consequently, could never be ulti- 
mately useful, either to their possessors, or to others. 

As he was told by the highest authority, that " the heavens 
declare the glory of God ; the firmament showeth forth his 
handy work;" and, as mere inspection served only to fill him 
with wonder and astonishment, without giving him such in- 
formation as might enlarge the boundaries of knowledge, he 
wished much to gain some acquaintance with the science of 
astronomy. About this time a friend 'lent him that incompa- 
rable work of Dr. Derham, entitled Astro-theology : and an- 
other particular friend, made him a present of a small, but ex- 
cellent, achromatic telescope. The Bible and Dr. Derham 
he read in union, at all spare times of the day : and his tele- 
scope he used as often as possible in the night season. He 
was delighted with the phases of the moon ; and these he 
carefully watched through her decrease and increase ; and 
found little difficulty in the belief that the r moon was a habit- 
able and inhabited world : and that all the planets were doubt- 
less the same : — all of them, abodes of intelligent beings, form- 
ed and supported by the same beneficent hand, and in reference 
to the same gracious end. 

Ray's Wisdom of God in the Creation, gave him still more 
particular information, and was the means of directing his 
mind to the study of natural philosophy . All these things 
were the means of establishing his soul in the thorough belief 
of the truth : and, as these authors professedly shew God in 
His Works, so his faith stood, not in the v/isdom of man, but 
in the pow r er of God. The doctrine of gravitation^ was to 



108 



INCREASE OF KNOWLEDGE, 



him a series of wonders in itself ; and the centripetal and 
centrifugal motions of all the planets, primary and secondary, 
gave him the most exalted idea of the wisdom, skill, and pro- 
vidence of God. Though he had no instructer in these things, 
and no instruments but his little telescope, yet he gained so 
much philosophical knowledge, as gave him to see the hand 
of God in every tree, plant, and stone, while he had scarcely 
any objects but his native fields, and never went abroad to 
mingle with the gay or the giddy — the scientific or the polite. 

And thus his life, exempt from public haunts, 
Found tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." 

And although he was not favoured by what is called for- 
tune, yet he was the constant care of Providence ; and he 
was taught to watch its openings, and make the best of his 
circumstances. 

" Happy was he, 
That could translate the stubbornness of fortune 
Into so quiet and so sweet a still." 

The knowledge of hard words in those sciences, he obtained 
from a very useful, but now almost unknown work, entitled, 
Dictionarum Anglo Britannicum, or, A General English 
Dictionary : by John Kersey, 8vo. Lond. 1715. A Dictionary 
which contains more valuable matter for students, than any 
other of its size yet offered to the public. The Dictionary of 
Benj. Martin, which he afterwards got, was also very useful. 
This latter work he always considered, for correctness of ety- 
mology, and accuracy of definition, by far the best on its plan, 
before or since published. 

But w e must leave him as to his literary pursuits, for a while, 
that we may see him labouring to promote the best interests 
of his own family, his neighbours, and his school-fellows. 

Except on the Lord's Day, family prayer was not observed 
in his father's house. This was, to him, a cause of great 
affliction. He laboured to get it established ; but all in vain, 
unless himself would officiate ! This he found a cross which 
he feared he should never be able to take up, or, if taken up, 
be able to bear. His youth was his principal hinderance. This 
burthen, however, it appeared God had laid upon his con- 
science. He struggled against it for a while, till he felt con- 
demned in his own mind. At last he took up this, to him, 
tremendous cross, and prayed with his father, mother, and 
family : they were highly pleased ; and as long as he was 
under their roof, he was, in this respect, their chaplain : yet, 
he ever felt it a cross, though God gave him power to bear it. 
A prayerless family has God's curse. If the parents will not 
perform family prayer, if there be a converted child in the 



THE FAMILY BECOME METHODISTS. 



109 



family, it devolves on him : and should he refuse, he will 



The conversation of Adam, made a serious impression on 
all the family- The fear of God spread more generally 
through the whole than ever : the Scriptures were more care- 
fully read ; and private prayer was not neglected. At the 
same time the practice of piety became the proof of the preva- 
lence of religious principles in each. His fourth sister, Han- 
nah, entered the Methodist's society with him, and was a long 
time his only companion in the family. Adam and this 
sister were often accustomed to walk in the fields and talk 
about God and their souls ; and then retire for prayer to God. 
This young woman was afterwards married to Mr. Thomas 
Exley, M. A., of Bristol, and bore him several children ; and 
died happy in God. Her children all became pious. 

The next fruit of his labour, was his eldest sister. She was 
a cautious sensible woman ; and did not join the society, till 
she was thoroughly convinced of the truth of their doctrines, 
and the excellency of their discipline. She afterwards mar- 
ried the Rev. W. M. Johnson, LL. D., Rector of St. Perrans- 
Uthno, in Cornwall. She is still living, and has a numerous 
family. 

All the rest of the family became constant hearers of the 
Methodists ; and most of them members of the society : but 
as he, soon after the period of which we are now speaking, 
removed from that country, he did not witness all the results 
of his own labours. His parents continued to entertain the 
Methodist Preachers, while they lived: and most of their 
children who were settled in life, have had the same honour. 

With his school-fellows, A. C. was not inactive. When 
he had opportunity, he spoke to them concerning their salva- 
tion, and incited them to hear the Methodist Preachers. One, 
Andrew Coleman, who was much attached to him, heard and 
became deeply in earnest for his salvation. He was a young 
man of fine natural parts, and a good scholar. He afterwards 
became an itinerant preacher among the Methodists : but his 
race, though it promised to be luminous, was very short : for 
in consequence of lying in a damp bed, he had a premature 
and deeply regretted death. His school-fellow, Adam, wrote 
a short account of him, which was published in the Methodist 
Memorial ; and as it is strictly connected with the present nar- 
rative, and contains some curious information, I shall here in- 
sert it. 



" Andrew Coleman was born in Coleraine, in the north of 
Ireland, of very respectable parents. As he appeared to have 
a more than ordinary taste for learning, he was put to school 
at an early age, and soon made great progress in reading and 




10 



110 



ACCOUNT OF ANDREW COLEMAN. 



merchants' accompts. He was afterwards removed to a gram- 
mar-school, where he profited beyond all his fellows. None 
of his own standing, could keep pace with him; and he out- 
stripped many who had begun their classical course long be- 
fore him. He soon became master of the Latin and Greek 
languages, and made considerable progress in Hebrew. To 
these studies he joined geometry, astronomy, chronology, his- 
tory, and most branches of the mathematics. As he was re- 
markably blest with an amazingly comprehensive mind, and 
vigorous retentive memory, he fathomed the depth of every 
study, and could not be contented with a superficial know- 
ledge of any subject. The acquisition of useful learning was 
more to him than his necessary food ; and he neglected no 
opportunity of cultivating his mind. Whatever he read he 
made his own; and whatever he learned, he retained; so that 
his stock of knowledge was continually increasing. 

" Owing to the straitened circumstances of his parents, 
(who had been reduced to great want, from a state of con- 
siderable affluence,) he was, in general, unable to procure 
those books which were necessary in his particular studies ; 
so that in many cases he was obliged to explore his way in 
the regions of science without any other light or guide than 
that which the Father of Lights had kindled in his own mind. 
But notwithstanding this disadvantage, to which might be 
added, his very delicate constitution, and his being often obliged 
to work hard to purchase time to attend his school, he attained 
to such a pitch of mental cultivation before his 17th year, as 
few have been able to acquire in the course of a long life. 

" Having finished his classical studies, he was obliged to 
take up a little school in order to procure himself the neces- 
saries of life, as the impaired state of his parents' circumstances 
did not permit him to hope for any assistance from that 
quarter. What he acquired by his labours in this way, he 
gave for the support of his family, and often went whole days 
without food that he might help to support those from whom 
he received his being. This he considered as one of his 
first duties ; and he discharged it to the uttermost of his 
power. 

" About the year 1778, it pleased God to awaken and bring 
to the knowledge of the truth, one of his school-fellows, Mr. 
A. C, now one of our travelling preachers. As a very tender 
friendship subsisted between those two, they often spoke to- 
gether of the things of God, and attended the ministry of 
Mr. Thomas Barber, who w r as acting as a Missionary at his 
own cost, and emphatically performing the work of an Evan- 
gelist through an extensive tract of country near the sea- 
coasts of the county of Antrim. His mind w r as soon found to 
be very susceptible of divine impressions — it became gradually 
enlightened : and having earnestly sought redemption in the 



ACCOUNT OF ANDREW COLEMAN. 



Ill 



blood of the cross, he received it, to the unspeakable joy of 
his soul. 

" After some time he was employed as a class-leader, and 
at the entreaties of several, began to exhort in different country 
places in the vicinity of Colera.ine. Being naturally very 
timid, it was some time before he could be prevailed on to 
take a text ; and when he at last submitted his own judgment 
to that of his friends, and began to preach, his word met with 
universal acceptance. 

" In July 1785, he was well recommended to the Dublin 
Conference as a fit person to travel. He was accordingly 
received on trial, and sent to the Sligo Circuit. He was in the 
18th year of his age, and nearly six feet high, the rapid growth 
of his body appearing to keep pace with that of his mind. 
But it was soon found, he had passed the meridian of his life. 
The circuit to which he was sent, was a severe one — he la- 
boured to the uttermost of his power, and in about nine months 
he fulfilled his course, having fallen into a rapid consumption- 
He returned to his mother's house a short time before the en- 
suing Conference ; and though every assistance was afforded 
Mm by the amiable Society of Coleraine, and the affectionate 
family in which he received his education, he sunk apace, and 
having suffered awhile with the utmost patience and resigna- 
tion, he fell asleep in Jesus, June 18th, 1786, aged 18 years 
and two months, and soon gained the blessed region where the 
inhabitant shall no more say, I am sick. He had the happi- 
ness of seeing his mother and grandmother brought to an ac- 
quaintance with the truth, before his departure ; and his last 
words to them, as his holy soul prepared to take its flight into 
the eternal world, were, Follow me ! Mr. Wm. West preach- 
ed his funeral sermon out of doors, to an audience that no 
house could contain: and the high estimation in which he 
was held, was evinced by the many thousands who attended 
his remains to the grave. The funeral procession extended 
more than half a mile ! The evening before he died, he de- 
sired to be carried out in his chair to see the setting sun : his 
desire was complied with ; and, having beheld it awhile with 
pleasing emotion, till it sunk under the horizon, he observed, 
* This sun has hitherto been partially obscured to me, but it 
shall be no more so for ever !' And about the time it began 
to re-enlighten that part of the earth, his happy soul soared 
away to the regions of glory. 

"To many it might appear that this amiable young man 
was taken away in the midst of his usefulness. But a little 
reflection will shew us that God's ways are all equal. He 
never removes any of his servants till they have accomplished 
the work he has given them to do. Extraordinary talents are 
not given merely in reference to this world. — They refer also 
io eternity; and shall there have their consummation, and 



112 



ACCOUNT OF ANDREW COLEMAN. 



plentitude of employ. Far be it from God to light up such 
tapers to burn only for a moment in the dark night of life, and 
then to extinguish them for ever in the damps of death. 
Heaven is the region where the spirits of just men made per- 
fect live, thrive, and eternally expand their powers in the ser- 
vice, and to the glory of Him from whom they have derived 
their being. 

" The extensive learning of Mr. Coleman, was his least 
excellence. This indeed, he accounted but dross and dung in 
comparison of the excellence of the knowledge of Jesus Christ 
crucified. Through this, the world and all its enjoyments 
were crucified to him. It was this, that opened the kingdom 
of heaven to his soul, supported him in his sufferings, and 
caused him to triumph over death. 

" His very retentive memory has already been noted : when 
he was about fourteen years of age, he had the whole of the 
Common-Prayer by heart. He had made himself such a 
master of the JEneid of Virgil, and the Paradise Lost of 
Milton, at the same age, that on the mention of any line in 
either of those poems, he could immediately tell the book in 
which it occurred, and the number of the line! His natural 
disposition was uncommonly amiable. — His own excellences 
were so deeply hidden from himself, that the foot of pride 
never appeared to come against him. He was a steady friend, 
and a most affectionate and dutiful child. His manner, both 
in preaching and conversation, was plain and artless. He 
humbled himself at the feet of all : and the invariable lan- 
guage of his heart, both to God and man, was What, I know 
not, that teach thou meP* 



For the salvation of his neighbours Adam Clarke felt an 
ardent concern : he spoke to each of them concerning spiritual 
things as often as he had opportunity — went to the houses of 
several, and wherever it was acceptable, -prayed with them, 
and read a portion of the Holy Scriptures, and endeavoured to 
expound those portions which best suited the state of their 
minds. 

He did not confine his labour to his immediate neighbourhood, 
but went several miles into the country, in all directions, ex- 
horting and beseeching the people to turn to God. In such 
work he spent the whole of the Sabbath. Often he had to travel 
four, six, and more miles on the Sabbath morning to meet a 
class. As those classes generally met about eight o'clock in 
the morning, he was obliged in the winter season, to set out 

* The above account of his early friend was written by Dr. Clarke 
for the " Methodist Memorial." 



FIRST PREACHING. 



113 



two hours before daylight ; and frequently in snow, rain, frost, 
&c. ; nor did any kind of weather ever prevent him from taking 
these long journeys. Having the love of God shed abroad in 
his heart, he loved the souls of men, and found no difficulty in 
obedience : — " Love feels no load." Obedience is painful only 
to him who has not the love of God in his soul. 

In the summer time, after having met one of those distant 
classes, it was his custom to go to the top of some mountain or 
high hill ; and, having taken a view of the different villages 
which lay scattered over the lower country, arrange them in 
his mind, proceed to that which was nearest, walk into it, and 
enter the first open door ; and, after accosting the inhabitants 
with Peace be to this house, ask them if they were willing he 
should pray with them ? When they consented, he then in- 
quired whether they had any objection to call in a few of their 
neighbours 1 When this was done, he generally gave out a 
verse of a hymn, sung it, and then gave them an exhortation, 
prayed with them, and departed to another village, pursuing 
the same method. It is remarkable that, in no case was he 
ever refused the permission he sought. He was very young, 
and this, with his very serious deportment, and the singularity 
of his conduct, made in all cases a powerful impression in his 
favour, which his prayers and exhortations never failed to in- 
crease. On this plan he has in the course of one day, visited 
nine or ten villages at considerable distances from each other, 
and from his own home ; and spoke publicly as many times ! 
In these excursions he never went to those villages where the 
Methodists had established preaching ; but to those principally 
which had no helper ; lying at a considerable distance as they 
generally did from places -of public worship. This was sore 
travail, as, besides speaking so many times, he has walked 
above twenty miles, and often had little if any thing to eat. 
But he went on his way rejoicing, and could always sing — 

" When I do my Master's will, 
I carry my heaven about me still." 

Though, as we have seen, he was never expert at figures, yet 
ne wished to learn some of the more ornamental branches of 
the mathematics ; and for this end his father placed him under 
the care of a very eminent mathematician in Coleraine. He 
continued with this gentleman only long enough to learn Dial- 
ling in a general way : I mention this circumstance, because 
the last secular act of his life, by which he endeavored to gain 
his bread, was performed in this science. An acquaintance, 
Mr. S. H. desired A. C. to make him a horizontal brass dial 
for his garden. Adam provided the brass, laid on the lines, 
engraved it himself, and charged for the instrument Jive shil- 
lings ! He called,for this moderate compensation for his skill 
and labour two or three times ; and the last, just before he left 
10* 



114 



CONTINUED STUDIES, 



the kingdom : but he never received the cash. He had made 
several before, for small profits: this last terminated all his 
operations in gnomonics. 

About the winter of 1778 he attempted to learn French. 
There was no person in the neighbourhood that could help 
him in the language. Mr. Edward Murphy, of great emi- 
nence as a classical teacher, and who then kept his school in 
the church of Desart Martin, not far from Magherafelt, was 
the only person who could teach the language in that country. 
He went thither, lodged with a friend, several miles from the 
place, attended Mr. Murphy's school, walking out every morn- 
ing and back every night, in the depth of winter, and sat in 
the cold church without fire, during the day. This was severe 
work ; but in no case did ever A. C. find a royal road to any 
point of knowledge, or branch of learning. 

Adam had often amused himself with making short hymns, 
and turning several of the Psalms of David into metre. He 
once even undertook Solomon's Song; and turned the four 
first chapters into stanzas of four lines, eights and sixes ! but 
no fragments of these early productions remain, or can be 
recovered. When his judgment became a little more ma- 
tured, he devoted his rhyming hours to much better purposes, 
and paid no attention to the fruit of bis juvenile attempts in 
this line, for which he entertained no kind of respect, but 
merely as they were proofs of a pious and sincere mind. 

He was put apprentice to Mr. Francis Bennet, a linen mer- 
chant of Coleraine ; and a distant relative of his own, with 
every prospect of secular advantage. This was in opposition to 
the opinion of ail his religious friends; who were fully per- 
suaded that God had called him to a different employment 
His parents, however, not being able, as has already been 
shewn, to put him in the regular ministry, thought, an ap- 
prenticeship with Mr. Bennet, on the advantageous ground 
which his kindness caused him to propose, was a direct open- 
ing of Providence, which would eventually lead to a respecta- 
ble competency. As to himself, he was entirely passive : as 
yet he knew not the design of the Lord, and his grand point 
was, — not to get money, but to save his soul. 

He went at first a month on trial ; that being ended, as much 
to Mr. B.'s satisfaction, as he could reasonably wish ; his pa- 
rents were expected to take the first opportunity to have him for- 
mally bound. This was strangely neglected from time to time, 
till at last he had been with Mr. Bennet eleven months. Dur- 
ing this time, his religious friends strongly and incessantly 
exhorted him not to enter an apprenticeship, as God had most 
assuredly called him to the work of the ministry. He laid 
these things before his parents, who gave them their most de- 
cided negative, and insisted on his continuance with Mr. B. 
This brought him into great perplexity : he had begun to 



DISSUADED FROM ENGAGEMENT IN TRADE. 



115 



doubt whether the business was such a one as would well 
comport with his spiritual profit. He thought he saw several 
things in it that he could hardly do with a clear conscience ; 
and particularly he saw that he must necessarily be much ex- 
posed to public company, in attending fairs and markets, in 
order to purchase the linen from the weavers. A clear con- 
science he thought would be better than the best inheritance ; 
and he was perfectly willing to earn his bread with the sweat 
of his brow at the most laborious and servile employment, 
rather than gain thousands with the prospect of suffering spi- 
ritual loss. 

Mr. John Bredin, an eminent minister of God, was then on 
the Coleraine and Londonderry circuit. He paid much at- 
tention to Adam, lent him. books, and took considerable pains 
to instruct him in the most important matters, and to cultivate 
his mind. He, supposing that God had called him to the 
work of the ministry, wrote concerning him to the late Rev. 
J. Wesley ; who kindly offered to take him for a time to his 
great school, at Kingswood, near Bristol ; where he might in- 
crease his classical knowledge, have the opportunity of exer- 
cising his ministerial talents in the various societies in that 
neighbourhood, and thus be better qualified for the general 
work of the ministry. This he laid before his parents, who 
received the proposal rather with indignation than with mere 
dissatisfaction 5 and entered a strong protest against it. At 
the same time Mr. Bennet made him a very advantageous 
offer : told him if he did not like his business he would ad- 
vance him money, either to be employed in some business at 
home, or to trade in Irish produce, (butter, hides, and tallow,) 
to England. This proposal he diligently concealed from his 
parents, as his mind now strongly led him to embrace the 
proposal of Mr. Wesley, and to go to England. He accord- 
ingly thanked Mr. Bennet for his kind offer, but told him that 
he had made up his mind, to quit the business : and in a short 
time they parted in a state of friendship and affectionate at- 
tachment, which has continued to the present day. 

Before I conclude this part of my narrative, I must mention 
some circumstances which took place while he was with Mr. 
Bennet. 

On many accounts his residence in Coleraine was highly 
useful to his religious growth, and his increase in useful 
knowledge ; though he had some trials of the most distressing 
land. He had now the opportunity of sitting under a very 
instructive and powerful ministry, several times in the week ; 
and conversing with a deeply religious and sensible people. 
He had, and enjoyed, all the means of grace. The preaching 
at five o'clock in the morning; he found peculiarly useful, 
because it was always on subjects immediately connected 
with Christian experience, and with the life of God in the 



116 



STUDIES AND COMPANIONS, 



soul of man. He met also with some valuable and sensible 
friends in that most excellent society, among whom were Mr. 
Robert Douthitt, from whose conversation and almost parental 
tenderness, he reaped the highest profit. The two Hunters, 
Andrew and William, cared much for his soul, and watched 
over him for good. He had a useful companion in Mr. John 
M'Kenny, whose son is now one of the Missionaries in the 
Island of Ceylon. Indeed the whole of that most excellent 
and intelligent society, laboured to promote his welfare, all 
believing that God had called him to fill some important office 
in his church. 

Dr. Clarke used to say, i; Two books lent me by Miss 
Younge, of Coleraine, afterwards Mrs. Rutherford, were 
rendered useful to me bey6nd ail otbers I had ever read, the 
Bible excepted. One was Mr. Wesley's Abridgment of 
Mr. Baxter's Saints' Everlasting Rest, and the other the 
Journal of Mr. David, Brainard, Missionary among the 
American Indians. From the first I got a deeper acquaint- 
ance with experimental Christianity : and from the second I 
imbibed the spirit of a Missionary. The former contributed 
to make me a belter Christian; and the latter formed my 
mind to the model of the Christian Ministry. If I continue 
to be a Christian. I owe it, under God, to the former ; if I ever 
was a preacher, I owe it, under the same grace, to the latter? 5 ' 
On this account he always expressed the highest respect for 
Mrs. Rutherford : — he considered her as a mother in Israel, and 
as one who had been instrumental to him of great good. Mr. 
Rutherford's preaching was also a great blessing to him. He 
was a good and useful preacher, and an unblemished Christian. 
He was accustomed to come to the parish of Agherton, where 
A. C.'s father resided, and to preach in different places. Adam 
heard him every where ; and in returning from the places of 
preaching, was in the habit of walking behind him, and took 
delight in literally treading in his steps : this was before he 
had any personal acquaintance with him. One evening Mr. 
R. noticing a little lad trotting after him, whom he had often 
observ ed at the preaching, turned about and said, " Well, child, 
God hath said, Hove them, that love me, and they that seek me 
early shall find me." He said no more, and Adam pondered 
these words in his heart ; and thus reasoned on them : " What, 
does he mean by they that seek me early? I rise early, and 
my first work is prayer — is that what is meant 2 No, it is they 
who seek God early in life — when they are young : then, thus 
I seek, and thus I will seek the Lord. He said also, they shall 
find me : others, perhaps, may seek and not find ; but God says 
to the young, they shall find." This gave him great en- 
couragement. Other preachers took no notice of him ; pro- 
bably supposing that one so young, could not be expected to 
have much concern for his soul. Experience, however, has in- 



A HARDENED SINNER TURNED TO GOD. 117 

disputably shewn, that the true light that lighteneth every man 
that cometh into the world, shines often very powerfully on 
infant minds : and that we cannot be too attentive to their cul- 
tivation, and that the best fruits may be expected from a careful 
management of such soils. But to return. — 

For several months after Adam came to Mr. Bennet's, he had 
a grievous cross, not to say plague, in one of the servants. — 
She was excessively boisterous and profane : rejected, in the 
most awful manner, every good advice which was given to 
her 5 she seemed to have an implacable enmity against Adam, 
because he was religious : and strange to tell, on no other 
ground. — Persecution about religion is rarely, if ever, the work 
of the human heart merely, for persecution on such an account^ 
is as unnatural, as it is absurd. It is the two spirits that are 
in opposition to each other. Every genuine Christian has the 
spirit of God in him ; every sinner th&t of the devil. The latter 
works on all the fallen nature, on that carnal mind especially 
which is enmity against God ; and thus the poor miserable sin- 
ner is diabolically impelled to act against his own interests, 
often against the clear convictions of his own conscience ; 
and thus to war against his Maker. Such was certainly the 
case with that servant. Adam bore all her insolence and in- 
sults without even a complaint. " O Molly, Molly," he would 
say, " you will surely repent for this : why will you sin against 
God, and your own soul ? have I ever done you any harm ? 
have I even spoken one cross or unkind word to you V Her 

principal answer was, "Ah, d your Methodism ; and d 

the Methodists." He continued to pray strongly for her, that 
God might convert her soul. His prayers were at last heard : 
she was struck with the deepest convictions a human heart 
could feel, or a human mind bear. She literally roared for the 
disquiet of her soul. He was now obliged to use every kind 
of persuasive, — ransack the Bible for promises to sinners peni- 
tent, — to prevent her from falling into absolute despair. She was 
sometimes so terrified at the apprehension of God's judgments, 
the sinfulness of her heart, and the wickedness of her'life, that 
she appeared to choose strangling rather than life ; and was often 
on the verge of laying violent hands upon herself. Her con- 
tinual application to him for direction and advice, was at last 
excessively burdensome : because her mind was so distracted, 
that she could scarcely profit by any. She had been a strong 
sinner ; and now she was arrested by a strong hand. At last, 
after passing through indescribable mental agony, she was en- 
abled to behold the Lamb of God which takes away the sin of 
the world, and found redemption in his blood, the remission of 
her sins. Now, indeed, the lion became a lamb. All her fierce 
and violent tempers were removed ; she became meek and 
gentle, diligent in business, and fervent in spirit serving the 
Lord. He saw her thirty years after this, and found her walk- 



118 



METHOD OF REPROVING. 



ing steadily in the way that leads to the kingdom of God. Let 
no one despair of the salvation of even the most hardened. — 
This woman has since acknowledged that she has often felt 
the keenest twinges of conscience when she has been most 
violent in her contradicting and blaspheming. 

He had another severe cross while in this family. There 
was an old relative of the family, who was what is commonly 
called bed-ridden, and being left to the care of the servants, she 
was totally neglected. She had all the infirmities of old age, 
was very disagreeable in her manners, and crooked in her tem- 
pers. On these accounts, the servants, who had no religion, and 
little humanity, left her entirely to herself, except when they 
carried her a morsel of food. Adam was accustomed to go 
into her room every night to speak to her about her soul, 
and pray with her. Seeing her most deplorable and desolate 
state, he took upon him, after remonstrating with the maid- 
servants in vain, to perform for her the most humiliating ser- 
vices ; which, with the circumstances that required them, 
are such as cannot be described. These he continued for 
several months. Death at last relieved her from life, and a 
load of uncommon! wretchedness, and. him from an oppressive 
load, under which nothing but the grace of God, working on a 
nature full of benevolence and charity, could have supported 
him. Known to God alone, are the services he performed for 
this woman, and the distress he suffered in performing them. 

With another circumstance, which took place during his 
residence with Mr. Bennet, this part of the narrative shall be 
closed. 

He had long held it his duty to reprove sin wherever he met 
with it, and indeed he could scarcely go anywhere without 
meeting it. His manner of reproof was the most mild and 
humble. If they were his inferiors, he spoke to them at once : 
if they were his equals or a little above, he sought to find them 
alone, and then affectionately mentioned the impropriety of 
their conduct, both as it respected God and themselves. If 
they were removed above him several degrees, he generally 
wrote to them ; always signing his name : for he could not 
endure the pusillanimity of shrinking under the covert of dark- 
ness, in order to hide himself from the cross of Christ, while 
endeavouring to perform what he believed to be his duty : — 
most took it well, and from others he never heard. This 
however became a heavy burden to him ; and he longed to get 
out of that public life where he witnessed little else than 
vanity, profaneness, and wickedness. His spirits were greatly- 
worn down, and his bodily strength prostrated. The earliest 
entry found in his Journals relates to this ; from which I shall 
make the following Extracts, as they shew the tenderness of 
his conscience, and the uprightness of his heart. I shall give 
them in his own artless phrase. 



EXTRACTS FROM DIARY. 



119 



"Sept. 17, 1781. Rose before Jive, went to the Barracks 
a place so called, where the Methodists preached.] Came 
ack full of heaviness, owing, I believe, to my not reproving 
sin; for I heard swear ' faith? on Sunday night. Resolv- 
ed to speak concerning this the first opportunity. Spoke this 

morning ; 1 believe has taken it ill. Seeing it is my duty, 

Lord, give me strength to persevere in it ! Though all the 
world should be my enemy, if God be on my side, they can- 
not be successful against me. Reproved two others for swear- 
ing, before 12 o'clock. Lord Jesus, put a stop to the tide of 
iniquity by which the sons of corruption are carried down the 
stream of sin ; and turn a pure language upon the hearts of 
the people ! Amen ! 

" Sept. 18. Rose this morning with a serene mind. Spent 
a considerable time in prayer. O may I be preserved this day 
from all the snares of the world, the flesh, and the devil, 
through the power of that grace which is ever ready to help 
me ! Amen. Read the xvth chap, of John : O may I be a 
lively experiencer of the blessed promises contained in it. — 
Christ tells us, if we abide in him, he will abide, in us : and 
that severed from him, we can do nothing. Forbid it, gracious 
Lord ! that I should ever leave thee ! Then shall I not fear 
the power of any adversary. Reproved two or three others 
to day, for swearing : I dare not suffer sin upon my brother. — 
Read the xvith chap, of John : eternal praise be to the Lamb 
of the Most High God, for the promise — In the world ye shall 
have tribulation, but in me ye shall have peace. What solid 
comfort to the believer is contained in the 24th verse, — Hith- 
erto ye have asked nothing in my name : ask and ye shall re- 
ceive, that your joy may be full" 

It was the opinion of an eminent divine, that much tempta- 
tion, as well as prayer and reading, are necessary to make a 
Christian and a minister. It is requisite that he who is to be 
a judge of so many cases of conscience, should clearly un- 
derstand them. But is this possible, unless he have passed 
through those states and circumstances, on which these cases 
are founded ? I trow not. He who has not been deeply ex- 
ercised in the furnace of affliction and trial, is never likely to 
be a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing 
the word of truth. How can a man, unexperienced in spiritual 
trials, build up the Church of Christ ! 

That he might not trust in himself or any thing he had ac- 
quired, there was given him a thorn in the flesh, a messenger 
of Satan to buffet him. As his grand enemy could not suc- 
ceed in tempting him to commit outward sin, he strove with 
all his skill and cunning, to harass his mind ; and cause him 
to push the principles which regulate moral conduct beyond 
their natural boundaries. Fasting, abstinence, and the most 
solemn regard for truth, he carried to the utmost pitch of sera- 



HO 



DISTRESSING DOUBTS. 



pulous observance. He became so scrupulous about his food, 
and practised such an excessive degree of self-denial, that he 
was worn down to little else than skin and bone. 

As he saw the world full of hollow friendships, shallow 
pretensions to religion, outsides of all kinds, and real substan- 
tial wickedness, he was led to contemplate the Almighty 
as the God of truth, and the God of justice. His views of 
him under these characters, often nearly swallowed up his soul : 
and the terror of the God of truth and justice made him 
afraid. He became doubly watchful in all his conduct: 
guarded the avenues of his heart, took care to do nothing for 
which he had not the authority of God's Word, and the testi 
mony of his conscience and spoke little and with extreme 
caution. From this he was led to analyze his words in such 
a way, in order that he might speak nothing but what was in- 
dubitable truth ; that at last every thing appeared to him to be 
hypothetical, and a general system of doubtfulness in every 
thing relative to himself took place. This had a very awful, 
and indeed almost fatal, effect upon his memory, so much 
afraid was he lest he should say any thing that was not strictly 
true, and on many subjects he would not get full information, 
that he might no longer affirm or deny any thing. He dis- 
trusted his memory and the evidence of his senses so much, 
that the former seemed to record transactions no longer, and 
the latter only served for personal preservation. When he 
has gone an errand, and returned, he has given in the most 

embarrassing account. "Adam, have vou been at ?" " I 

think I have, Sir." "Did you see Mr. ?" " I believe I 

did." " Did you deliver the message V* " I think so." " What 
did he say?" "I cannot say: I am not sure that he said so 
and so, if I have ever been there and seen him ; — and I am 
not sure that he did not say what I think I have just now told 
you." u Why, Adam, I cannot tell what you mean ! Pray be 
more attentive in future." After some time, the empire ot 
doubt became so established, that he appeared to himself as a 
visionary being' : and the whole world as little else than a 
congeries of ill-connected ideas. He thought at last, that the 
whole of life, and indeed universal nature, was a dream : he 
could reflect that he had what were termed dreams, and in 
them all appeared to be realities, but when he awoke, he found 
all unreal mockeries: and why might not his present state be 
the same ? At length he doubted whether he ever had such 
dreams ; whether he ever made such reflections, or whether 
he ever now thought or reflected ! However ideal all this may 
appear to the Reader, his sufferings in consequence were most 
distressingly real. He spoke to a particular friend on the sub- 
ject: he stared, was confounded, knew nothing of the matter, 
and could give him no advice. After suffering exquisitely, he 
went to one of the preachers, and began as well he could, to 



DISTRESSING DOUBTS. 



121 



lay his case before him : the Preacher said abruptly — " What, 
are you going mad ? — It is a shame for you to be occupied with 
such nonsense." He hastened away from him, and never after 
opened his mind to any person on the subject. In this state 
of distress and misery he continued for three weeks, and they 
appeared like centuries. He prayed much, immediately forgot 
that he had prayed, and went to prayer again ! He either for- 
got to do what he was ordered ; or forgot when he had done 
it that he had been thus employed, and wondered to find the 
work done which he had been sent to execute, though himself 
a little before had been the agent ! It is worthy of remark that, 
all this time, the being of God, and the truth of the Sacred 
Writings, had never become a subject of doubt. These were 
the foundations ; had these been ideally destroyed, what 
could his righteous soul have done ? He was sifted as wheat ; 
all the trials he ever came through, were nothing compared 
with this. Why was it suffered 1 Partly for his own sake, and 
partly for the sake of others. He ever felt from this, how so- 
vereignly necessary was the curb and superintendence of rea- 
son, to bind, control, connect and arrange the figments of 
imagination, and the excursions of fancy : and he found that 
reason itself was nothing, or nothing to be depended on, longer 
than it acted under the incumbent energy of the living God. 
This taught him the precarious nature of imagination and 
fancy, the excellence of reason, and the necessity of a con- 
tinual indwelling influence of the Divine Spirit. But, as many 
of the states through which he passed were, in the order of 
the all-wise providence of God, in reference to his ministerial 
character; so was this. He has often said, "I believe there 
is not a state, or stage of feeling or trial that any person can 
be in, that God has not either led me through, or permitted 
me to be dragged through ; insomuch, that in all my minis- 
terial life, and the vast multitude of cases of conscience which 
came before me, I never met with one that I did not under- 
stand ; so that I can say with the apostle, Blessed be God, the 
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and 
the God of all comfort ; who comforteth us in all our tribula- 
tion, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any 
trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted 
of God. 2 Cor. i. 3, 4." 

But the Reader is no doubt anxious to know how this charm 
was dissolved ; and how the soul of this distressed young man 
was delivered ? It was simply as follows : — It has already 
been seen that he was both harassed in his mind,, and per- 
plexed and injured in his memory : he needed a twofold help, 
and, when they became indispensably necessary, God sent 
them. While in this distracted state, he went one evening 
to the prayer-meeting ; for he was most punctual and consci- 
entious in all the means of grace. One of those who engaged 
11 



122 



RECOVERY OF MEMORY. 



m prayer, who knew nothing of his state, was led to pray 
thus : — " Lord, if there be any here, against whom the ac- 
cuser of the brethren hath stood up, succour that soul, and 
cast the accuser dowm." Immediately he thought, rt I am the 
person : the accuser of the brethren hath stood up, and is 
standing up against me : Lord, cast him down, and deliver 
me !" It was immediately done : he was enabled to penetrate 
the wiles of the seducer ; and the divine light and consolation 
instantly returned. 

How he was succoured in the ravages made on his memory 
will next appear. One dav Mr. Bennet having desired him 
to do something, which he had done, but had forgotten ; and, 
being questioned on it, answered in his usual way of doubt- 
fulness, but rather from a conviction that it was undone ; Mr. 
B., knowing that it was done, said to him in a solemn man- 
ner, ' : Adam, you have totally lost your memory : — you are in 
a very deplorable state, — you have not a particle of memory 
remaining." With these words Adam seemed to awaken as 
from a deep trance. He turned his eye inwardly, saw his mind 
in total confusion : nothing had rule : confusion seemed con- 
founded by confusion — every where appeared the 

M Non bene jiindarum discordia semina rerumP 

He new to prayer, which was ever his strong hold : God shone 
upon his mind and gave him a renewed consciousness of his 
favour. He thought he would try and see whether his me- 
mory were impaired : he took up Mr. Blair^s Poem on the 
Grave, and attempted to commit to memory the first para- 
graph : with great labour he succeeded : but found it very 
difficult to recollect the lines consecutively. When he could 
repeat the paragraph off book, in its natural order, he thought 
he would not burden his mind any farther for the present, and 
laid down the book and went to his work. After a short time 
he endeavoured to repeat those lines ; but w r hat his surprise to 
find them entirely fled ! 

Speaking on the subject, he said, "I do not recollect that I 
remained master of a single line ! It seemed that either every 
thing was effaced from my memory, or that memory itself was 
extinct. I took up the book again, and, after a few T efforts, 
recovered the paragraph, with the addition of a few more 
lines. Went again to work, and after some time, tried my 
memory again, and found all gone but two or three of the 
first lines ! I took up the book again, recovered what I had 
learnt, and. as before, added a few more ; and was satisfied 
that I could say the whole consecutively without missing a 
line, or indeed a word. Went to my work ; after some hours 
tried my memory again, and found all gone but about double 
the quantity of the beginning to what I had left of the last 
recollection. Tims I continued for some time, getting and 



RECOVERY OF MEMORY. 



123 



losing, bat recollecting additionally more of the commence- 
ment, till at last, I could repeat in all circumstances, and after 
any pause, about two hundred lines. I then gave it up, and 
by various exertions, left my memory to acquire its wonted 
tone and energy by degrees : but this it never did completely. 

" From that day to this, my memory has been comparatively 
imperfect — much inferior to what it was before It could 
readily take in great things ; not so readily small: it could 
perfectly recollect ideas, and general description, but not the 
particular words : could give the substance of a conversation 
at any time, and almost at any distance of time, but not the 
particular terms used in that conversation : — and so of read- 
ing. To bring it to what it is, required strong and frequent 
exercise : but there is a certain point beyond which it has 
refused to go, or I have not had skill or patience enough to 
carry it. But this imperfection in relation to verbal minutice, 
I consider a wise dispensation of a kind Providence. Had 
my memory been as circumstantially perfect, as it once 
was, I should no doubt have depended much on it, less on 
God, and perhaps neglected the cultivation of my understand- 
ing and judgment. In a word, I should have done probably 
what many eminent me?norists have done, especially some 
preachers, ' meanly stole the words from my neighbours being 
able to repeat verbatim, the sermon I had read, or that which 
I had heard ; and delivered it in the pulpit as if it were my 
own 5 and this might have at least led me to 

1 Deal in the wretched traffic of a truth unfelt.' 

I have been therefore obliged to depend much on the continual 
assistance of God in my ministerial labours, and cultivate my 
judgment and understanding to the uttermost of my power : for 
I never dared to expect the divine assistance and unction so 
essentially necessary to me, unless I had previously exercised 
my judgment and understanding as far as possible. Now, 
strange as it may appear, from this very circumstance — the 
verbal imperfection of my memory — I have preached perhaps 
5000 sermons, on all kinds of subjects, and on a great variety 
of occasions, and did not know beforehand, one single sen- 
tence that I should utter. And were I to preach before the 
king, or the two universities, I must preach in this way or not 
at all. 

" But let no man misunderstand me : I did not enter the 
pulpit, or take my text till I was satisfied I understood the 
subject, and could properly explain and reason upon it. Ac- 
cording to the fable . in my favourite iEsop, I whipped the 
horses, and set my shoulders to the wheel, and then called 
upon Hercules, and was sure to obtain his help." 

This is Dr. Clarke's own account of this solemn business ; 



124 



METHOD OF PREACHING. 



and we may see from it, how much a vigorous mind may rise 
above its circumstances ; and by assiduous cultivation and in- 
dustry, supply its adventitious or natural defects. In conse- 
quence of this, the plan of his preaching was new and un- 
common : it is always interesting, and ever popular : for, by 
the demonstration of the truth, he commended himself to 
every man's conscience in the sight of God. 

It is worthy also of remark, that this state of comparative 
obliviscence to which his memory was reduced, did not affect 
any thing that had occurred previously : it had its operation 
only on matters which took place posterior to the circum- 
stance mentioned above. Those things he could ever recollect 
in detail. These only in sum or aggregate, with now and 
then some exceptions. 



METHOD OF PREACHING. 



125 



BOOK III. 



We have seen, from the preceding statement, that young 
Clarke had already frequently given public exhortations in 
different country places — but in no case had he taken a text, 
though both the preachers and the principal friends wished 
him to do so. Conscious of his inexperience in divine things, 
and want of a general understanding in the Scriptures, he 
utterly refused to bind himself to explain any particular text 
in a formal way ; and left himself the wide field of exhor- 
tation. 

It would be well if young ministers, or those designed for 
the ministerial office, were equally scrupulous, not to say con- 
scientious. Many labour on a particular text, which they 
treat as they were accustomed to do a theme in their school- 
boy exercises ; and think, when they have succeeded pretty 
well on a few points of this kind, that they are qualified to 
be preachers of God's Holy Word : this is in many cases a 
fatal mistake both to themselves and others. In the primitive 
Church, there were Exhorters, as well as Preacher Teach- 
ers^ Apostles, and Evangelists ; and their gift was not less 
necessary for the edification of the Church than those of the 
others. However, all gifts seem now to be absorbed in- one, 
and a man must be either a Preacher or nothing. 

Adam had not as yet got what he deemed a satisfactory call 
to preach the Gospel; and he was afraid to run before he was 
sent. As it was now likely he would not be employed in what 
was termed the regular ministry of the word, he judged it 
the more necessary to have an extraordinary call, to an ex~ 
traordinary work : and for this he waited without solicitude 
or anxiety ; for he did not desire the work of the ministry ; 
it was to him no object of ambition, and could be none of 
emolument. His lot was now cast with the Methodists ; for 
among them he had found the salvation of his soul ; and he 
had no wish for any other religious communion. Their doc- 
trine he knew to be true ; their discipline he found useful ; 
and their whole economy afforded spiritual advantages, which 
he could see no where else. 

Shortly after he left Coleraine, Mr. Bredin, already men- 
tioned, being on the Londonderry side of the circuit, sent for 
him to spend a week or fortnight with him : as his parents 
were not unwilling, he prepared for the journey, upwards of 



126 



HE PREACHES HIS FIRST SERMON . 



thirty miles, which he must walk, for there were no public 
conveyances of any kind in those parts. Just before he set 
out, early on the Monday morning, he took up his Bible and 
said. Lord, direct me to some portion of thy Word, that may 
be a subject to me of useful meditation on the way ! He 
then opened the book, and the first words that met his eyes 
were these, " Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, 
and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, 
and that your fruit should remain : that whatsoever you shall 
ask of the Father, in my name, he may give it vou." — John 
xv. 16. 

This word gave him great encouragement, and he went on 
his way rejoicing. When he came to the city, Mr. Bredin 
desired him to go the next night, and supply his place, at a 
village called New Buildings, about five miles beyond Derry : 
— to this he agreed. "But," says Mr. B., "you must preach 
to the people." " I will do the best I can," says Adam, "with 
God's help." " But," said Mr. B., " you must take a text, 
and preach from it." " That I cannot undertake," said Adam. 
" You must and shall," said Mr. B. " I will exhort as usual, 
but I cannot venture to take a text." " Well, a text you must 
take, for the people will not be satisfied without it : a good 
exhortation is a Sermon, and you may as well have a text as 
not." To this authority he was obliged for the present to 
bow : — he went with rather a perplexed than a heavy heart ; 
but he was relieved by meeting in the course of his reading 
with the following words : " We know that, we are of God, 
and the whole world lieth in wickedness." 1 John v. 19. 

This text he thought he well understood, went to the place, 
June 19th, 1782 ; took it, and after an introduction, in which 
he gave a general account of the Apostle John, divided it in 
the following way : — 

1. The Apostle states that the whole world lieth in wick- 
edness : this I shall endeavour to prove from the natural and 
'practical state of man. 

2. That it is only by the power of God that men are saved 
from this state of corruption ; those who are converted being 
influenced and employed by Him : — We are of God, 

3. Those who are thus converted, know it, not only from its 
outward effects in their lives ; but from the change made in 
their hearts : — We know that we are of God. 

The people seemed highly gratified, and gathered round 
him when he had finished, and entreated him to preach to 
them at a place a mile or two off, at Jive the next morning, 
before they went to their work : he consented, and many were 
gathered together to whom he explained and applied, 1 John 
iv. 19, We love Him because He first loved us. 

During this visit at Derry, he preached five times at New 
Buildings \ and gave several exhortations in the city. After 



PREPARES FOR LEAVING IRELAND. 



127 



about a fortnight's stay he returned, and now had a strong 
persuasion in his own mind, that God had called him to preach 
His Word ; and that the verse to which he was directed, when 
he set out on his journey to Deny, — Ye have not chosen me, 
but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go 
and bring forth fruit, fyc, was the evidence of the call which 
God had graciously given him. He felt these words, as no 
man could feel them, who was not in his circumstances. 
That he was not mistaken, the issue has most amply proved. 
He was now sent by God ; human authority had not yet in- 
terfered in his appointment. It is the prerogative of God to 
call and ordain his own ministers : it may be the prerogative 
of the church to appoint them where to labour ; though, fre- 
quently, this also comes by an especial divine appointment. 

As there was some prospect that he might soon go to Eng- 
land ; previously to his departure, A. C. thought it his duty to 
wait on the Rev. Mr. Smith, the Rector of the parish, to in- 
form him of his design to visit England, and request a certi- 
ficate. He did so ; and was as usual received with great kind- 
ness. On his requesting a certificate, Mr. S. said, " Write any 
thing you please, Adam, and I will sign it." This he de- 
clined, and said, " Any thing from you, Sir, will be suffi- 
cient:" on which Mr. S. sat down and wrote the following 
lines, which the Rev. Mr. Hezlet, Rector of a neighbouring 
parish, seeing, subscribed. 

Millburn, Jidy 29, 1782. 
" The Bearer's father, John Clarke, M. A., has for several 
years kept school in the parish of Agherton, of which I am 
Rector ; and during that time, both he and the Bearer, Adam 
Clarke, have maintained a fair and exceeding good character : 
and I do believe the Bearer worthy of the confidence of any 
person who has occasion to employ, or have any intercourse or 
connection with him. 

Wm. Smith, Minister of Agherton. 
Robt. Hezlet, Rector of Killowen." 

He had not been long returned from Deny, before a letter 
came from Mr. Wesley to Mr. Bredin, appointing him for Eng- 
land, and desiring him to bring A. Clarke with him, that he 
might be sent direct to Kingswood school. This brought mat- 
ters to a crisis with his family : — they were all highly dis- 
pleased. His father would neither see nor speak to him ; his 
mother threatened^him with God's displeasure, and said as be- 
fore, " We have brought you up with much care and trouble ; 
your brother is gone, your father cannot last always, you should 
stay with the family, and labour for the support of those who 
have so long supported you, and not go to be a fugitive and 
vagabond over the face of the earth. I believe you to be up- 



128 



HIS PARENTS RECONCILED 



right, I know you to be godly ; but remember, God has said, 

Honour thy father and thy mother : that thy days may be long 
in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee. This is the 
first commandment with promise: and remember what the 
Apostle hath said ; Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and 
yet offend in one point, is guilty of all. Now I allow that 



break that solemn law, Honour thy father and thy mother } 
and if you do, what will avail all your other righteousness?" 
It would not do to reply to an aggrieved parent. All he could 
say was, / wish to do nothing contrary to the will of God : 
and in this respect I labour to keep a conscience void of offence 
before God and man. His poor mother was so far transported 
and off her guard, that she said, u If you go, you shall have a 
parent's curse and not her blessing." 

He was thus brought into a dilemma, and had no choice 
but of difficulties. — He had advanced too far, to retreat safely ; 
and to turn back he could not with a clear conscience. He 
had the most decided disapprobation of his parents, and with 
such, expressed as mentioned above, he could not think of 
leaving home. Prayer was his strong hold, and to this he 
had recourse on the present occasion. God knew the way 
that he took, and appeared for him. Having gone into Cole- 
raine a few days on some business, he was greatly surprised 
on his return to find his mother's sentiments entirely changed. 
She had got the persuasion that God had required her to give 
up her son to his work : she instantly submitted, and had be- 
gun to use all her influence with his father, to bring him to the 
same mind ; nor had she exerted herself in vain. Both his 
parents received him on his return, with a pleasing counte- 
nance : and though neither said go: yet both said, we submit. 
In a few days he set off to the city of Londonderry, whence 
he was shortly to embark for Liverpool, London, or Bristol. 
On his departure, he was recommended by the pious society 
of Coleraine, to God. He had little money, and but a scanty 
wardrobe ; but he was carried far above the fear of want ; he 
would n ot ask his parents for any help ; nor would he intimate 
to them that he needed any. A few of his own select friends 
put some money in his purse, and having taken a dutiful and 
affectionate leave of his parents and friends, he walked to 
Deny, a journey of upwards of 30 miles, in a part of a day, 
found Mr. Bredin waiting, who had agreed for their passage 
in a Liverpool trader, which was expected to sail the first fair 
wind. 

As he was young and inexperienced, for he had not seen 
the world, Adam was glad that he was likely to have the com- 
pany and advice of his friend Mr. Bredin ; but in this he was 
disappointed : just as they were about to sail, a letter came 
from Mr. Wesley, remanding Mr. Bredin's appointment. 



you are unblameable 




TO HIS LEAVING IRELAND. 



129 



There was no time to deliberate ; the wind was fair, the ves- 
sel cleared out, and about to fall down the Lough ; Adam got a 
loaf of bread and about a pound of cheese, went instantly 
aboard quite alone, and the vessel set sail, Saturday, August 
17, 1782. By this solemn step he had now separated himself 
from all earthly connections and prospects in his own country ; 
and went on the authority of what he believed to be a divine 
command, not knowing whither he was going, nor what God 
intended for him. 

They got safely down Lough Foyle into the Deucaledonian 
Sea, having run aground through the carelessness of the pilot, 
but got off in about an hour, without sustaining any damage. 
They passed between the Skerries, Raghery, and the main 
land ; doubled Fair Head, and the next morning were off the 
Midi of Galloway. The tide being against them, and the wind 
falling, they were obliged to work into Ramsey Bay, in the 
Isle of Man, where they staid about six hours. When the tide 
made, they weighed anchor, and the next afternoon got safely 
into Liverpool, August 19, 1782. On this passage, and some 
circumstances connected with it, it may be necessaiy to make 
a few remarks. 

The captain of the sloop was named Cunningham, a Scotch- 
man ; decent, orderly, and respectable in his life. With him 
young Clarke had frequent and serious conversation on the 
passage ; with which Capt. C. seemed not a little pleased. The 
18th was Sunday, during the whole of which they were at sea, 
but Adam was sick, and was obliged to keep to his bed. The 
captain had got FlaveVs works, and spent all his spare 
time on the Lord's day in reading them. — The sailors were, on 
the whole, orderly ; and though he had reproved them for 
swearing, they did not take it ill, and refrained from the prac- 
tice during the passage: and as they saw that the captain 
treated his young passenger with respect, they also treated 
him with the same. When they took their pilot on board, off 
Hoylake, they were informed that there was a hot press in the 
river. There were two young men, one a sailor, the other a 
hatter, steerage passengers, who began to fear for their per- 
sonal safety. The sloop entered the river, and the first object 
that engaged their attention was a tender, which fired a couple 
of guns to make the captain bring to. The sails were hauled 
down in a moment, and the tender lowered her boat over her 
side ; an officer and six men entered it, and began to make for 
the sloop. The transaction now about to be recorded Dr. C. 
has often related. His own account is the following : — 

" As soon as Captain Cunningham perceived the tender, and 
was obliged to bring to, on her fire : he addressed himself to 
the passengers, and said, ' You had better go and hide your- 
selves in the most secret parts of the vessel, or wherever you 
can \ we shall have a press-gang immediately on board ; and 



130 



IN DANGER OF BEING PRESSED. 



I cannot protect you.' The two young men already mention- 
ed, hid themselves accordingly : I said to myself, Shall such 
a man as I flee ? I will not. I am in the hands of the Lord ; 
if He permit me to be sent on board a man-of-war, doubtless 
He has something for me to do there.' I therefore quietly sat 
down on a locker in the cabin; but my heart prayed to the 
God of heaven. By and bye the noise on deck, told me that 
the gang were come on board. Immediately I heard a hoarse 
voice of unholy authority, calling out, — 1 All you who are be- 
low, come up on deck !' I immediately walked up the hatch- 
way^ stepped across the quarter-deck, and leaned myself 
against the gunwale. The officer went down himself and 
searched, and found the hatter ; but did not find the sailor. 
While this officer and the captain were in conversation about 
the hatter, who maintained that he was apprentice to Mr. 

, of Liverpool, one of the gang came up to me, and said 

to one of our sailors, ' Who have you got here ? O, he's a 

priest, I'll warrant,' said the fellow ; adding, c we pressed 

a priest yesterday, but I think we'll not take this one.' By this 
time the lieutenant, having ordered the poor hatter aboard of 
the tender's boat, came up to me, stood for some seconds eye- 
ing me from head to foot; he then stepped forward, took me 
by the right hand, fingered and thumbed it to find whether I 
had been brought up to the sea or hard labour, then, with au- 
thoritative insolence, shook it from him with a muffled exe 

cration, c D you, you'll not do.' They then returned to 

their boat and went oft with the poor hatter. 

" What Briton's bosom does not burn against this infringe- 
ment of British liberty ? This unconstitutional attack on the 
liberty of a free-born subject of the Sovereign of the British 
Isles? While the impress service is tolerated, in vain do we 
boast of our Constitution. It is an attack upon its vitality, ten 
thousand times worse than any suspension of the Habeas Cor- 
pus act. Let Britons know that it is neither any part of our 
Constitution, nor any law of the land, whatever some venal 
lawyers have said, in order to make it constructively such. 
Nothing can be a reason for it, but that which justifies a levee 
en masse of the inhabitants of the nation. It is intolerable to 
hear those plead for it, who are not exposed to so great a ca- 
lamity." 

Having now escaped and got safely to shore, A. C. asked 
the captain if he could direct him to some quiet lodging, where 
he might be comfortable for the night, as he intended to set 
off next morning for Bristol. The captain said, "You shall 
stay at my house ; sometimes my wife takes in respectable 
lodgers." He went with him, and was presented with several 
encomiums to Mrs. C, who received him affably; she was a 
decent, well-bred woman. In the afternoon, the captain ask- 
ed him to take a walk, and see the docks and shipping. He 



ARRIVES AT LIVERPOOL. 



131 



went, but having lately escaped from a press-gang, he was 
afraid of getting in their way again ; and to tell the truth, 
imagined that every ill-looking fellow he met, was one of the 
party. 

On his return to Captain Cunningham's, he was introduced 
to a Scotch lady who was there, a private boarder ; there was 
also a naval captain present. At tea, the conversation turned 
on religion. The strange captain professed to be a papist ; 
the Scotch lady took some part in the conversation, and gene- 
rally pledged her conscience to the truth of what she asserted. 
Adam was pained at this ; for, in all other respects, she ap- 
peared to be a well-bred and very respectable gentlewoman. 
He watched for an opportunity after tea, when he saw her 
alone, said very humbly, " Madam,, it is a pity that so decent 
and respectable a lady as you are, should ever use an improper 
word." "Pray," said the lady, surprised, "what, what do 
you mean 1" " Why, madam, I have noticed you several 
times in conversation, use the term ' upon my conscience? 
Now, madam, to you, and to every intelligent serious person, 
conscience must be a very sacred principle ; and should never 
be treated lightly ; and certainly should never be used in the 
way of an ordinary oath." "Why, sir," said she, "I cannot 
think there is any harm in it. I know very well-bred reli- 
gious people make no scruple of using it as I do ; and I am 
sure I cannot be persuaded that I have been doing any thing 
wrong." " Well, madam, I do think it sinful ; and I rather 
think when you come to reflect on it, you will think so too." 
Thus ended the conversation. At supper the lady said, 
" Mrs. Cunningham, this young man has been reproving me 
for saying, ' upon my conscience? Now, I never thought that 
to be a sin : and sure Mrs. C. you know, as well as I, many 
good people who make no scruple of saying it." There was 
some silence, and then A. C. gave his reasons why he thought 
it, and all such words, thus used, to be sinful. Captain C. 
and Mrs. C. seemed to nod consent. The strange Captain 
said, " Sir, as I am a Catholic, I believe that when the priest 
has consecrated the bread and wine in the Lord's Supper, 
nothing of those elements remains, they are totally and sub- 
stantially changed into the body, blood, life, and divinity of 
Jesus Christ. Have you any thing to say against that ?" 
" O yes, sir," said Adam, " I have much to say against it ;" 
and then began and argued largely to shew the doctrine un- 
scriptural, and to prove it absurd. The captain then asked 
him what he had to say against the invocation of saints, and 
the worshipping of images? He gave his reasons at large 
against these also. Purgatory, was next produced ; Auricular 
Confession ; and the priests'* power to forgive sins. All these 
were considered: and, if one might dare to say so, of so 
young a person, they were all confuted from Scripture and 



132 



JOURNEY TO BIRMINGHAM. 



reason. But the last tenet gave him an opportunity to turn 
to the subject generally, to speak concerning the nature of sin, 
and the fallen condemned state of man ; and that, since no 
human nor angelic being could forgive offences not committed 
against themselves, but against another, it followed that He 
only against whom they were committed could forgive them ; 
and, as all had sinned and come short of the glory of God, if 
He did not forgive them, doubtless they must sink those who 
had committed them into the gulf of endless perdition. He 
shewed also, that reconciliation Avith God was impossible from 
any thing that the sinner could either do or suffer ; and that 
there was no hope of salvation to any man, but through the 
great sacrificial offering made by Christ Jesus. "But this, 5 * 
said he, " becomes effectual to no man who is not a true and 
deep penitent, and does not implicitly believe in that Atoning 
Sacrifice, as offered to Divine Justice for him, as a sufficient 
sacrifice, offering, atonement, and satisfaction for his trans- 
gressions. 55 While discoursing on these subjects, God gave 
him uncommon power and freedom of speech: his little audi- 
ence had their eyes intently fixed upon him ; tears began to 
drop on their cheeks, and the half-smothered sob, gave strong 
indications of the state of their minds : perceiving this, he 
said, let us pray ! and, suddenly dropping on his knees, in 
which he was immediately followed by all present, he prayed 
with such fervour and energy that all were in tears ; and God 
seemed to work mightily in every mind. What were the 
effects of this night 5 s conversation and prayer, will be found 
perhaps only in the great day. 

The next morning he called on a Mr. Ray, of Cleaveland 
square, to whom he was introduced by a person from London- 
derry, whom he had accidentally met in the street. Mr. Ray 
invited him to stay to breakfast, and dissuaded him from what 
he had fully intended to do — viz. to go on foot from Liverpool 
to Bristol, a journey of nearly 200 miles. Mr. Ray sent his 
young man with him to the coach-office, where he took an out- 
side place to Birmingham, in what was then called the Fly, 
one of the first of the stage coaches, carried six insides, as many 
outsides as they could stick on ; and these, together with enor- 
mous boot and basket, filled with luggage, made it little infe- 
rior to a wagon in size, and not a great deal superior to one in 
speed. It might safely be ranked among the tarda volventia 
plaustra; for, though they left Liverpool at seven p. m. (Aug. 
21,) they did not arrive in Birmingham before the following 
evening. 

Before he left Captain Cunningham 5 s he inquired for his bill ; 
and was answered by Mrs. C, " No, sir, you owe nothing here ; 
Capt. C, myself, and all the family, are deeply in your debt. — 
You have been a blessing to our house ; and, were you to stay 
longer, you would have no charges. We shall be concerned to 



JOURNEY TO BIRMINGHAM. 



133 



hear how you get to the end of your journey ; therefore, pray 
write to us when you get to Kingswood." 

This free lodging, though it suited his pocket, did not suit 
his disposition : for all through life he admired and enforced 
those words of our Lord, It is more blessed to give than to re 
ceive. He departed, earnestly praying that God would re- 
member that family for good, for the kindness they had shewn 
to a poor stranger in a strange land. 

His company on this day's journey was various, particularly 
on the outside, for they were frequently changed ; most of them 
going only a short distance. Those within were of another 
description, and A. C. became acquainted with them in the 
following manner : — a young gentleman belonging to the party, 
chose to take a stage on the outside, in order to see the country. 
He was gay and giddy and soon proved that he feared not an 
oath. A. C. asked him if he did not think it very improper to 
make use of such words ? " What," said he, " are you a 
Presbyterian ?" — " No, sir," said Adam, "lama Methodist." 
This provoked his risibility in an uncommon degree ; and he 
made it the foundation of a great deal of harmless, but rather 
foolish wit. When he went inside, he told his tale in his own 
way, and this excited the curiosity of his companions to see this 
strange creature. A well-behaved gentleman put his head out 
of the coach window, and said, " Pray tell the young lad in the 
blue coat, to come into the inside for a stage, one of us will 
change places with him." Adam replied, "I thank you, sir, 
I prefer the seat where I now am." He repeated his request, 
and had the same answer. When the coach stopped, a lady 
urged him to comply ; but the risibility of the young gentleman 
not having as yet received its sedative, A. C. still refused. — 
The lady pressed him, and said, " Why, sir, should you refuse 
our company ?" — " Why, madam," said he, " I think mine 
cannot be very agreeable to you." She answered, " Sir, you 
must come in ; this young gentleman will take your place, and 
you will do us good." He at last consented. They questioned 
him about his religion ; where he was going, &c. &c, and they 
were so well pleased, that they requested him to go with them 
round by London, and they would cheerfully pay his fare, and 
maintain him on his way. This did not seem to him to lie in 
the line of Providence, and therefore, with due expressions of 
obligation, he refused the proffered kindness. The coach 
stopped for dinner at Litchfield, and they obliged him to sit at 
table with them, and would not permit him to be at any expense. 
The gentleman was learned ; and was pleased to find that 
his young acquaintance could converse with him out of Virgil 
and Horace, and was also well acquainted with all the doc- 
trines of the gospel of Christ. In discoursing on that confi- 
dence which every true follower of God has in the Divine 
favour and protection, A. C. alleged that the principle was 



134 



JOURNEY TO BIRMINGHAM. 



not unknown among even the heathens; though many called 
Christians deny that we can have any direct evidence of God's 
love to our minds ; and he quoted the following verse from 
Horace : — 

Integer vita scelerisque purus i 

Non eget Mauris jaculis. neque arcu, 

Nec venenatis gravida sagittis. 

Fusee , fluire.tr a. " 

Odar. lib. i. od. 22. 

" The man that knows not guilty fear, 
Nor wants the bow, nor pointed spear ; 
Nor needs, while innocent of heart, 
The quiver teeming with the poisoned dart." 

Francis. 

" True," said the gentleman, "but if we take Horace as au- 
thority for one point, we may as well do it in another, and in 
some of your received principles, you will find him against 
you ; witness another Ode," — 

" Nunc est bibendum i nunc pede liber o 
Pulsanda tellus" 

Odar. lib. i. od. 37. 
" Now let the bowl with wine be crown'd ; 
Now lighter dance the mazy round." 

Francis. 

A. C. acknowledged the propriety of this critique; and has 
been heard to say, " We should be cautious how we appeal to 
heathens, however eminent, in behalf of morality; because 
much may be collected from them on the other side. In like 
manner, we should take heed how we quote the Fathers in 
proof of the doctrines of the Gospel ; because he who knows 
them best, knows, that on many of those subjects, they blow 
hot and cold." 

He parted from this intelligent company at Lichfield : to 
whom he had a very favourable opportunity of explaining 
some of the chief doctrines of the Christian system. — Every 
well disposed mind has something to do for God or man, in 
every place and circumstance ; and he who is watchful and 
conscientious, will find opportunities. 

He reached Birmingham in the evening, and soon found 
out Mr. Joseph Brettell, the brother of John, already men- 
tioned, to whom he had a letter of recommendation from Mr. 
Ray. Mr. and Mrs. B. received him most affectionately, and 
offered him a bed at their house till he could take his depar- 
ture for Bristol, which could not be till early on the morning of 
the 24th, as there was no conveyance before that time. On the 
evening of the 23d Mr. B. took him with him to a public prayer- 
meeting, where he constrained him to give an exhortation y 
which the piety and good sense of the people to whom it was 
given, led them to receive kindly. The chapel in Cherry 



JOURNEY TO BRISTOL. 



135 



Street was then nearly finished, and that night before the 
prayer-meeting, he heard old Parson Greenwood preach in it 
on these words, " / am in a strait between txvo." On which 
he observed that, " It had been generally the case in all ages, 
that the people of God had been frequently in straits and diffi- 
culties; and gave several instances, as Lot in Sodom; Jacob 
in the house of Laban, and when he met with Esau his bro- 
ther ; Moses in Egypt," &c. &c. and, had he then known the 
circumstances and spirit of his young strange hearer, he might 
have safely added him to the number. 

Before he left Birmingham, Mr. Brettell took occasion to 
ask him, " What he proposed by going to Kingswood school ?" 
Adam, who had been led to consider it in the light of an uni- 
versity, but much better conducted, immediately answered, 
" I hope to get in it an increase of learning, of knowledge, 
and of piety." Mr. B. said, " I hope you may not be disap- 
pointed : I question whether you will meet there with any- 
thing you expect." At this Adam was surprised, and referred 
him to some of the late magazines, where such an account 
was given of this seminary, as quite justified all his expecta- 
tions. Mr. B. said, " I only wish to put you on your guard 
against suffering pain and discouragement, should you be dis- 
appointed. Some of us know the place well ; and know that 
you will not meet in it what you have been led to expect." 
This seemed strange to him, and he pondered all these say- 
ings in his heart. This kind family behaved to him as if he 
had been their own child, and a strict friendship was estab- 
lished between him and them which was never dissolved ; 
and Mr. Brettell's house was his home whenever he visited 
Birmingham, till, in the course of Divine Providence, he left 
his residence and manufactory at the Moat, and became man- 
ager of a public charge in the town. 

Of this kind family Dr. C. was accustomed to say, "Never 
were those words of our Lord more literally attended to, than 
in the case of this family in reference to me : — I was a stran- 
ger and ye took me in. Of myself or family they had never 
before heard. Of me they could hardly expect ever to hear 
again ; and for their kindness they could expect no reward on 
this side the resurrection of the just ; and yet they behaved 
to me, as did the family of the Walkers, into which Mr. B. 
had married, as if th*ey had been under the highest obligations 
to me and mine. May God remember them for good : and 
may neither their children, nor children's children, ever be 
strangers in a strange land, without meeting with such friends 
as they have been to me !" 

As the coach for Bristol was to go off at three o'clock in 
the morning, it was thought best that A, C. should sleep at 
the inn. When he had paid his coach outside fare to Bristol, 
and sixpence for his bed. he found he had remaining one shil- 



136 



ARRIVAL AT KINGSWOOD. 



ling and ninepence only. On this he could not draw exten 
sively for support on the way ; nor was he anxious,, as he was 
well inured to self-denial and fasting. He left Birmingham 
at three o'clock, a. m. Aug. 24, and reached the Lamb Inn in 
Broad Mead, Bristol, at eight o'clock that night. During the 
whole of this time, his entire subsistence had been a penny 
loaf and a halfpenny worth of apples! The day had been 
stormy, and he had been often wet to the skin : and not being 
used to such travelling, he was sufficiently fatigued and ex- 
hausted when he reached Bristol. He was shewn to the 
kitchen, where there happening to be a good fire, he got him- 
self warmed : and he asked for a piece of bread and cheese, 
and a drink of water. " Water, water I" said one of the ser- 
vants, " had you not better have a pint of beer ?" — " No, I pre- 
fer a drink of water," said he : it was brought, and for this 
homely supper he paid sixpence, and sixpence for his bed be- 
fore he lay down ; he had now sevenpence halfpenny remain- 
ing, sixpence of which the chambermaid charged for taking 
care of his box : he had three halfpence left, his whole sub- 
stance, to begin the world at Kings wood ! The next morn- 
ing early, Aug. 25th, he left the inn, and walked to Kings- 
wood, and got thither about seven o'clock, when the preaching 
in the chapel was about to commence. He entered with the 
crowd, and heard Mr. Thomas Payne preach on " Woman, 
why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?" This text was a 
word in season to Adam, who began now to be very heavy, 
and considerably tried in his mind, with a foreboding of some 
approaching distresses. It may be necessary to state here, 
that the Thomas Payne mentioned above, was not the famous 
revolutionist and Infidel, so well known since over Europe 
and America ; but a zealous, sensible Methodist preacher, the 
reverse of the other, both in his religious and political creed. 
His own life, written by himself, may be found in the Armi- 
nian Magazine. He died at Brislington, near Bristol, the fol- 
lowing year. 

The preaching being ended, A. C. inquired of a young lad, 
whom he supposed to be one of the scholars, if Mr. Simpson 
(the head Master) was at home ? Being informed that he 
was, he begged leave to see him ; — he was introduced, and de- 
livered Mr. Wesley's letter. Mr. S. appeared surprised : said, 
" He had heard nothing of it, and that they had no room in 
the school for any one ; that Mr. Wesley was now in Corn- 
wall, but was expected in a fortnight :" and added, " You must 
go back to Bristol, and lodge there till he comes." These 
were all appalling tidings ! Adam had travelled several hun- 
dred miles both by sea and land in quest of a chimerical 
Utopia and Garden of Paradise, and now all his hopes were 
in a moment crushed to death. 

With a heart full of distress, Adam ventured to say, " Sir 



HIS RECEPTION AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. 



137 



I cannot go back to Bristol, I have expended all my money, 
and have nothing to subsist on." Mr. S. said, " Why should 
you come to Kingswood, it is only for preachers' children, or 
for such preachers as cannot read their Bible ; and it appears 
from this information, that you have already been at a clas- 
sical school, and that you have read both Greek and Latin au- 
thors." Adam said, " I am come to improve myself in vari- 
ous ways by the advantages which I understood Kingswood 
could afford." Mr. S. replied that, "It was hot necessary ; if 
you are already a preacher, you had better go out into the work 
at large, for there is no room for you in the school, and not 
one spare bed in the house." It was now with his poor heart : — 

Hei mild ! quanta de spe decidi ! 

The rest I shall give in A. C.'s own words. 

" At last it was agreed, that there was a spare room on the 
end of the chapel, where I might lodge till Mr. Wesley should 
come from Cornwall : and that I must stay in that room and 
not come into the house. I was accordingly shewn to the 
place, and was told, one of the maids should bring me my 
daily food at the due times. As soon as I was left alone, 1 
kneeled down and poured out my soul to God with strong cry- 
ing and tears. I was a stranger in a strange land, and alas I 
among strange people : utterly friendless and pennyless. I 
felt also that I was not at liberty, but only to run away : — this 
I believe would have been grateful to the unfeeling people into 
whose hands I had fallen. But I soon found why I was thus 
cooped up in my prison-house. Mr. S. that day took an op- 
portunity to tell me that Mrs. S. suspected that I might have the 
itch, as many persons coming from my country had ; [thjs 
was excellent from Scotch people, for such they both were ;] 
and that they could not let me mingle with the family. I im- 
mediately tore open my waistcoat and shirt, and shewed him 
a skin as white and as clean as ever had come across the 
Tweed ; but all to no purpose, — ' It might be cleaving some- 
where to me, and they could not be satisfied till I had rubbed, 
myself, from head to foot, with a box of Jackson's itch oint- 
ment, which should be procured for me next day P 

" It was only my strong hold of God, that kept me from 
distraction. But to whom could I make my complaint? 
Earthly refuge I had none. It is utterly impossible for me to 
describe the feelings, I may justly say the agony, of my mind. 
I surveyed my apartment ; there was a wretched old bureau 
wainscot bedstead, not worth ten shillings, and a flock bed, 
and suitable bed-clothes, worth not much more : but the worst 
was, they were very scanty, and the weather was cold and wet. 
There was one rush bottomed chair in the place, and besides 
these, neither carpet on the floor, nor at the bedside, nor any 
other kind of furniture. There was no book, not even a Bible, 
12* 



138 



TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. 



in the place ; and my own box, with my clothes and a few 
books, was behind at the Lamb Inn, in Bristol ; and I had not 
even a change of linen. Of this I informed them, and begged 
them to let the man, (as I found he went in with a horse and 
small cart three times a week,) bring out my box to me. To 
this request, often and earnestly repeated, I got no definite an 
swer, but no box was brought. 

" Jackson's Ointment w^as brought, it is true ; and with this 
infernal unguent, I Avas obliged to anoint myself before a large 
fire, (the first and last I saw while I remained there,) which 
they had ordered to be lighted for the purpose. In this state, 
smelling worse than a polecat, I tumbled with a heavy heart 
and streaming eyes, into my worthless bed. The next morn- 
ing the sheets had taken from my body, as far as they came 
in contact with it, the unabsorbed parts of this tartareous com- 
pound : and the smell of them and myself was almost insup- 
portable. The woman that brought my bread and milk for 
breakfast — for dinner — and for supper, — for generally I had 
nothing else, and not enough of that, — I begged to let me 
have a pair of clean sheets. It was in vain : no clean clothes 
of any kind were afforded me ; I was left to make my own 
bed, sweep my own room, and empty my own basin, &c. &c. 
as I pleased ! For more than three weeks no soul performed 
any kind act for me. And as they did not give orders to the 
man to bring out my box, I was left without a change of any 
kind, till the Thursday of the second week ; when I asked 
permission to go out of my prison-house to Bristol for my box ; 
which being granted, I walked to Bristol and carried my box 
on my head, more than four miles, without any kind of assist- 
ance ! It was then no loss, that my w r ardrobe was not exten- 
sive. As for hooks, I brought none with me but a small 18mo. 
Bible, a 12mo. edition of Young's Night Thoughts, Prideaux's 
Connected History of the Jews, &c, and Buck's 8vo. Greek 
Testament. 

" As both the days and nights wese very cold, the season 
then being unnaturally so, I begged to have a little fire. This 
was denied me, though coals were raised within a few roods 
of the house, and were very cheap ; and had it been otherwise, 
they were not at their expense ; they were paid for out of the 
'public collections, made for that school ; to which many of 
my friends made an annual liberal offering. 

" One day, having seen Mr. S. walking in the garden, I 
went to him and told him I was starving with cold ; and 
shewed him my fingers then bloodless through cold ! He took 
me to the hall, shewed me a cord which hung from the roof, 
to the end of which was affixed a cross stick ; and told me to 
jump up and catch a hold of the stick, and swing by my hands, 
and that would help to restore the circulation. I did so : and 
had been at the exercise only a few minutes, when Mrs. S. 



TREATMENT AT K1N0SW00D SCHOOL. 



139 



came and drove both him and myself away, under pretence 
that we should dirty the floor ! From this woman I received 
no kindness. A more unfeeling woman I had never met. 
She was probably very clever — all stood in awe of her — for 
my own part, I feared her more than I feared Satan himself. 
When nearly crippled with cold, and I had stolen into the 
kitchen to warm myself for a few moments, if I had heard her 
voice in the hall, I have run as a man would who is pursued 
in the jungles of Bengal by a royal tiger. 

" This woman was equally saving of the candles, as of the 
coals : if my candle were not extinguished by nine o'clock, 
I was called to account for it. My bed not being comfortable, 
I did not like to lie much in it ; and therefore kept out of it as 
late, and rose from it as early as possible. To prevent Mrs. S. 
from seeing the reflection of the light through my window, (for 
my prison-house was opposite the school, over the way,) I 
was accustomed to set my candle on the floor behind my 
bureau bed, take off my coat and hang it on my chair's back, 
bring that close on the other angle, and then sit down squat 
on the floor and read ! To these miserable expedients was I 
driven in order to avoid my bed, and spend my time in the 
best manner I could for the cultivation of my mind, and to 
escape the prying eye of this woman, who seemed never to 
be in her element but when she was driving every thing be- 
fore her. 

" I asked and got permission to work in the garden. There, 
line quickset hedges were all overgrown ; these I reduced to 
order by the dubbing shears : and I had done this so well, 
that my taste and industry were both applauded. I occasion- 
ally dug and dressed plots in the ground. This was of great 
service to me, as it gave me a sufficiency of exercise, and I 
had on the whole better health ; and there was a sort of pond 
of rain water in the garden, where I occasionally bathed, 
scanty indeed of water, for there is none in the place but 
what falls from heaven ; and for a temporary occupation of 
their premises, I was obliged to contend with frogs, askes, or 
evets, and vermin of different kinds. 

" The preaching, and public band-meeting at the chapel, 
were often sources of spiritual refreshment to me ; and gave 
me songs in the house of my pilgrimage. 

" One Thursday evening, when Mr. Thos. Rankin, who 
was superintendent (then called assistant) of the circuit, had 
preached, the bands met : and as I made it a point never to 
attend band-meeting or love-feast, without delivering my tes- 
timony for God, I spoke : and without entering into trials, 
temptations, or difficulties of any kind, I simply stated my 
confidence in God, the clear sense I had of my acceptance 
with Him, and my earnest desire for complete purity of heart. 
When the meeting was ended, Mr. R. came to me, and asked 



140 



TREATMENT AT KING3W00D SCHOOL, 



if I had ever led a class ? I said, I had often, in my own 
country, but not since I came to England. ' Have you ever 
preached V I answered, I had often exhorted in public, but 
had taken a text only a few times. He then told me I must 
go and meet a class at Mangotsfield the next day ; and preach 
at Downend the next Wednesday. I met the class, and 
preached as appointed, and had great favour in the sight of the 
people. 

" From that time Mr. Rankin was my steady friend. 1 
had an intimate acquaintance with him for upwards of thirty 
years ; and we never had the slightest misunderstanding. He 
was an authoritative man ; and many complained of him on 
this account ; he had not many friends, his manner being 
often apparently austere. But he was a man of unblemished 
character, truly devoted to God, and zealous in his work. 1 
attended him on his death-bed in London : he died as a Chris- 
tian and minister of Christ should die, — full of confidence in 
God, and peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. 

" The last time I saw him he desired his step-daughter, 
Mrs. Hovatt, to open a certain drawer, and bring to him a 
little shagreen box. She did so — he took it, and said, £ My 
dear brother Clarke, this is a silver medal of the late Rev. 
George Whitfield : Mr. Wesley gave it to me, and in my will 
I have left it to you : but I now choose to give it to you with 
my own hands; and I shall use the same words in giving it 
which Mr. Wesley used when he gave it to me : 

' Thus vje scatter our playthings : and soon we'll scatter our dust.' 

" It is a satisfaction to me that, having been superintendent 
of the London circuit three years before he died, I had it in my 
power to make his latter labours comparatively comfortable and 
easy ; by appointing him to places to which he had little fa- 
tigue in going, and where he was affectionately entertained. — 
In this I only did my duty; but he received it as a very high 
obligation. Preachers who have borne the burden and heat of 
the day, should be favoured in their latter end, when their 
strength and spirits fail. 

"Before I go farther in this relation, it will be necessary to 
describe, as briefly as possible, the family at Kingswood. 

" The school at that time consisted of the sons of itinerant 
preachers, and parlour boarders. The latter were taken in, be- 
cause the public collections were not sufficient to support the 
institution. 

" As a religious seminary, and under the direction of one of 
the greatest men in the world, Mr. J. Wesley, (though his mul- 
titudinous avocations prevented him from paying much atten- 
tion to it,) the school had a great character, both over Europe 
and America, among religious people. Independently of several 
young gentlemen, the sons of opulent Methodists, there were 



TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. 



141 



at that time in it several from the West Indies, Norway, Swe- 
den, and Denmark. 

" The following was the domestic establishment : — 

"Mr. Thomas Simpson, M. A. was head master. Mrs. 
Simpson, housekeeper. Miss Simpson, assistant. The Rev. 
Cornelius Bayley, afterwards Dr. Bayley of Manchester, was 
English teacher ; who had I believe at that time, only 12/. per 
annum, and his board, &c. for his labor ; Mr. Vincent de 
Boudry was occasional French teacher ; and Mr. C. R. Bend 
was a sort of half boarder, and assistant English teacher. 

" Mr. S. was a man of learning and piety ; much of a gen- 
tleman, but too easy for his situation. Mr. Bayley was a man 
of the strictest morals and exemplary piety. Mr. De Boudry 
was a man of plain sense and true godliness. Mr. Bond was 
a young man of little experience, and shallow in talents, but 
affectionate : whose highest ambition seemed to be, to reach 
the exalted place and character of a clergyman. 

" Mr. Simpson, on leaving Kingswood, which he did the 
year after I was there, set up a classical school at Keynsham ; 
which he managed for many years with considerable credit ; 
and died, leaving a son to fill his place, who afterwards became 
vicar of that place. 

"Mr. Cornelius Bayley published a very good Hebrew 
grammar while he was at the school. He afterwards went to 
Manchester, where a church was built for him, called St. 
James*, There he earnestly laboured and did much good, 
though he knew not the people among whom he received 
his religion, and who were the principal instruments in build- 
ing his church. He also is dead; highly respected for his 
piety, usefulness, and high Church principles. 

" Mr. De Boudry married a pious sensible woman ; and set 
up a Boarding School on Kingsdown, Bristol. He is dead : 
having long borne the character of a pious, steady, honest man. 

" No man can do justice to the life of Mr. Bond, but him- 
self. It has been indeed various and checquered : he is pro- 
bably still living ; but I know not what is become of him. 

" The scholars were none of them remarkable for piety or 
learning. The young gentlemen that were introduced had 
spoiled the discipline of the school; very few of its Rules and 
Regulations were observed ; and it in no respect answered the 
end of its institution. This is evident from the judgment 
passed upon it in the following year by Mr. Wesley and the 
Bristol Conference. This document I transcribe. 

' Bristol, Aug. 1783. 

• Q. 15. Can any improvement be made in the manage- 
ment of Kingswood school ? 

' A, My design in building the house at Kingswood was to 
have therein a Christian family ; every member whereof. 



142 



TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. 



(children excepted,) should be alive to God, and a pattern of 
all holiness* Here it was that I proposed to educate a few 
children according to the accuracy of the Christian model. 
And almost as soon as we began, God gave us a token for 
good, four of the children receiving a clear sense of pardon. 
But at present the school does not in any wise answer the 
design of its institution, either with regard to religion or learn- 
ing. The children are not religious ; they have not the pow- 
er, and hardly the form, of religion. Neither do they improve 
in learning better than at other schools : no, nor yet so well. 
Insomuch that some of our friends have been obliged to re- 
move their children to other schools. And no wonder they 
improve so little either in religion or learning ; for the rules 
of the school are not observed at all. All in the house ought 
to rise, take their three meals, and go to bed at a fixed hour. 
But they do not. The children ought never to be alone ; but 
always in the presence of a master. This is totally neglect- 
ed ; in consequence of which they run up and down the road, 
and mix, yea fight, with the colliers' children. 

' How may these evils be remedied, and the school reduced 
to its original plan ? It must be mended or ended, for no school, 
is better than the present school.' 

" This censure is perfectly correct, it was the worst school 
I had ever seen, and though the teachers were men of ade- 
quate learning ; yet as the school was perfectly disorganized, 
and in several respects each did what was right in his own 
eyes, and there was no efficient plan pursued, they mocked at 
religion, and trampled under foot all the laws. The little 
children of the preachers suffered great indignities ; and, it is 
to be feared, their treatment there gave many of them a rooted 
enmity against piety and religion for life. The parlour board- 
ers had every kind of respect paid to them, and the others 
were shamefully neglected. Had this most gross mismanage- 
ment been known to the Methodist preachers, they would 
have suffered their sons to die in ignorance, rather than have 
sent them to a place where there was scarcely any care taken 
either of their bodies or souls. 

" I found to my great discomfort, all the hints thrown out 
by Mr. B. and my Birmingham friends more than realized. 
The school has certainly been 'mended' since; and is now 
stated to be in a progressive state of greater improvement than 
ever. May it ever answer, in every respect, the great end 
which its most excellent founder proposed when he laid its 
first stone, and drew up its rules. 

" But to return to the remainder of my short stay in Kings- 
wood. 

" I have already noticed that, for the sake of exercise, I 
often worked in the garden. Observing one day a small plot 



TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. 



143 



which had been awkwardly turned over by one ol ne boys, I 
took the spade and began to dress it : in breaking one of the 
clods, I knocked a half-guinea out of it. I took it up and im- 
mediately said to myself, this is not mine ; it belongs not. to 
any of my family, for they have never been here ; I will take 
the first opportunity to give it to Mr. Simpson. Shortly after, 
I perceived him walking in the garden, I went to him, told 
him the circumstance, and presented the half-guinea to him ; 
he took it, looked at it, and said, £ It may be mine, as several 
hundred pounds pass through my hands in the course of the 
year, for the expenses of this school ; but I do not recollect 
that I ever lost any money since I came here. Probably one of 
the gentlemen has ; keep it, and in the mean time I will in- 
quire.' I said, ' sir, it is not mine, take you the money, if you 
meet the right owner, well ; if not, throw it in the funds of the 
school. 5 He answered, 1 You must keep it till I make the en- 
quiry.' I took it again with reluctance. The next day he 
told me that Mr. Bayley had lost a half-guinea, and I might 
give it to him the first time I saw him ; I did so : — three days 
afterwards Mr. Bayley came to me and said, c Mr. C. it is true, 
that I lost a half-guinea, but I am not sure that this is the half 
guinea I lost ; unless I were so, I could not conscientiously 
keep it ; therefore you must take it again.' I said, £ It is not 
mine, probably it is yours; therefore I cannot take it.' He 
answered, £ I will not keep it : / have been uneasy in my 
mind ever since it came into my possession ;' and, in saying 
this, he forced the gold into my hand. Mr. Simpson was 
present : I then presented it to him, saying, 1 Here, Mr. S., take 
you it, and apply it to the use of the school.' He turned away 
hastily as from something ominous, and said, c I declare I will 
have nothing to do with it.' So it was obliged to remain with 
its finder, and formed a grand addition to a purse that already 
possessed only three half-pence. 

"Was this providential? 1. I was poor, not worth two- 
pence in the world, and needed some important articles. 2. I 
was out of the reach of all supplies, and could be helped only 
from heaven. 3. How is it that the lad w T ho had dug the 
ground did not find the money : it was in a clod less than a 
man's fist. 4. How came it that Mr. B,, who knew he had 
lost a half-guinea, somewhere about the premises, could not 
appropriate this, but was miserable in his mind for two or three 
days and nights, and could have no rest till he returned it to 
me ? 5. How came it that Mr. S. was so horrified with the 
poor half-guinea that he dared not even throw it into the cha- 
ritable fund 1 6. Did the Providence of God send this to me, 
knowing that I stood in need of such a supply ? 

" The story is before the Reader, he may draw what infer- 
ence he pleases. One thing, however, I may add. — Besides 
two or three necessary articles which I purchased, I gave Mr, 



144 TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. 

Bay ley 6s. as my subscription for his Hebrew Grammar : by 
which work I acquired a satisfactory knowledge of that lan- 
guage, which ultimately led me to read over the Hebrew 
Bible, and make those short notes which formed the basis of 
the Commentary since published ! Had I not got that Gram- 
mar I probably should never have turned my mind to Hebrew 
learning ; and most certainly had never written a Commentary 
on Divine Revelation ! Behold how great, matter a little fire 
kindleth ! My pocket was not entirely empty of the remains 
of this half-guinea, till other supplies, in the ordinary course of 
God's Providence came in! O God! the silver and the gold 
are thine : so are the cattle upon a thousand hills. 

" At length Mr. Wesley returned to Bristol. The day he 
came, Mr. Simpson went in and had an interview with him ; 
and I suppose told his own tale, — that they had not room, that 
it was a pity I should not be out in the general work; and I 
was told that Mr. W. wished to see me. I had this privilege 
for the first time, on September 6th. I went into Bristol, saw 
Mr. Rankin, who carried me to Mr. Wesley's study, off the 
great lobby of the rooms over the Chapel in Broadmead. He 
tapped at the door, which was opened by this truly apostolic 
man : Mr. R. retired : Mr. W. took me kindly by the hand, and 
asked me, 1 How long since I had left Ireland V Our conver- 
sation was short. He said, c Well, brother Clarke, do you wish 
to devote yourself entirely to the work of God?' I answered, 
1 Sir, I wish to do and be what God pleases !' He then said, 
'We want a preacher for Bradford (Wilts ;) hold yourself in 
readiness to go thither ; I am going into the country, and will 
let you know when you shall go.' He then turned to me, laid 
his hands upon my head, and spent a few moments in praying 
to God to bless and preserve me, and to give me success in the 
work to which I was called. 

" I departed, having now received, in addition to my ap- 
pointment from God to preach His gospel, the only authority 
I could have from man, in that line in which I was to exer- 
cise the Ministry of the Divine Word. 

" That evening Mr. Wesley preached in the chapel from 
Zech. iv. 6., Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, 
saith the Lord of Hosts. In this Sermon, which was little 
else than a simple narrative of facts, he gave a succinct ac- 
count of the rise and progress of what is called Methodism : 
its commencement in Oxford, occasioned by himself and his 
brother Charles, and a few other young men, setting apart a 
certain portion of time to read the Greek Testament, and care- 
fully to note the doctrines and precepts of the gospel; and to 
pray for inward and outward holiness, &c. With and by these 
God had condescended to work a work, the greatest that had 
been wrought in any nation since the days of the Apostles. 
That the instruments which he employed were, humanly 



TREATMENT AT KINGSWOOD SCHOOL. 



145 



speaking, not at all calculated to produce such a glorious ef- 
fect ; — they had no might as to extraordinary learning, philo- 
sophy, or rhetorical abilities : — they had no power, either eccle- 
siastical or civil ; could neither command attention, nor punish 
the breach of order ; and yet by these means was this extra- 
ordinary work wrought ; and in such a manner too as to de- 
monstrate, that as it was neither by might nor power, it was 
by the Spirit of the Lord of Hosts. 

" Had this relation been entirely new to me, I should have 
felt more interest in the Sermon. But I had already acquainted 
myself with the history of Methodism, of which the present 
Sermon was an abridgment. The Sermon had nothing great 
in it, but was well suited to the purpose for which it was preach- 
ed ; viz. to lead the people ever to consider the glorious revival 
of religion which they witnessed, as the work of God alone ; 
and to give him the glory ; as to Him alone this glory was due. 

" Two days after this, (September 8,) I first saw Mr. Charles 
Wesley, and was not a little gratified to think that I had, by a 
strange series of providences, been brought to see the two men 
whom I had long considered as the very highest characters 
upon the face of the globe ; and as the most favoured instru- 
ments which God had employed since the days of the twelve 
Apostles to revive and spread genuine Christianity in the earth. 

" It was not till the 26th of this month that I had my final 
instructions to set off to my circuit. 

" A young man, named Edward Rijppon, had been, on too 
slight an authority, recommended to Mr. Wesley at the Con- 
ference, which had been held at Bristol in the last month, as 
a proper person to travel, and he was accordingly appointed 
for Bradford, (Wilts.) When the time came, he was found 
to be unqualified for the work, and he declined coming oat. 
To supply his place, I was appointed for that circuit : and this 
is the reason why my name was not printed in the Minutes 
that year; as the Conference was over before Mr. Rippon's 
determination was known, or my appointment had taken 
place. And by a blunder of all editors since that time, Rip- 
pon's name stands in that year as a travelling preacher in 
the Bradford circuit, though he never travelled an hour as a 
Methodist preacher in his life. 

" I have only one thing more to add about Kings wood, be- 
fore I take my final leave of it. 

" When Mr. Wesley had returned and told me to hold my- 
self in readiness to go into a circuit, I was brought out of my 
prison house, had a bed assigned me in the large room with 
the rest of the boys, (for about forty lay in the same chamber, 
each in a separate cot, with a flock bed,) and had permissioa 
to dine with the family. There was no question then about 
itch, or any thing else ; whether / ever had it, or whether / 
was cured of it ! But Mrs. S.'s authority was not yet at an end 



146 



HE IS CONFIRMED. 



It was soon observed at table that I drank no person's health. 
The truth is, I had ever considered it an absurd and senseless 
custom, and could not bring my mind to it. At this table, 
every person when he drank was obliged to run the following 
gauntlet. He must drink the health of Mr. Simpson — Mrs. 
Simpson — Miss Simpson — Mr. Bayley — Mr. De Boudry — all 
the foreign gentlemen — then all the parlour boarders, down 
one side of the long table, and up the other, one by one, and 
all the visitors who might happen to be there : — after which it 
was lawful for him to drink his glass of beer. 

" On Mrs. Simpson's insisting upon my going through this 
routine, and drinking all healths, I told her I had a scruple of 
conscience, and could not submit to it till better informed ; 
and hoped she would not insist on it. She answered, 'You 
certainly shall : you shall not drink at table unless you drink 
the healths of the company as the others do. Mr. Wesley 
drinks healths ; Mr. Fletcher does the same ; but you will not 
do it, because of course you have more wisdom and piety than 
they have.' To this I could not reply. I was in Rome, and 
it would have been absurd in me to have attempted to contend 
with the pope. The consequence was, I never had a drop ot 
fluid with my meat during the rest of my stay at this place. 
This was a sore trial to me, for I never had an easy degluti- 
tion, and was always obliged to sip with my food, in order to 
get it easily swallowed. I had now no help, but to take very 
small bits, and eat little ; and then go out to the vile straining 
stone behind the kitchen, for some of the half-putrid pit water ; 
and thus terminate my unsatisfactory meal. 

" The tyranny of Mrs. S. in this was truly execrable. I 
omitted from conviction a practice which I judged to be at 
least foolish and absurd : and none of them could furnish 
the shadow of an argument in vindication of their own con- 
duct, or in confutation of mine. I have however lived long 
enough to see almost the whole nation come over to my side. 

" It was at this time that the Bishop of Bristol held a confir- 
mation in the collegiate church. I had never been confirmed , 
and as I had a high respect for all the rites and ceremonies ot 
the Church, I wished to embrace this opportunity to get the 
blessing of that amiable and apostolic looking prelate, Dr. Lewis 
Bagot. . I asked permission ; several of the preachers' sons 
went with me ; and I felt much satisfaction in this ordinance; 
to me it was very solemn, and the whole was well conducted. 
Mrs. S., who was a Presbyterian, pitied my being so long £ held 
in the oldness of the letter.' I have lived nearly forty years 
since ; and upon this point my sentiments are not changed. 

" My stay was now terminated at Kingswood school. On the 
morning of Sept. 26th, I left it, walked to Hanham: from 
thence to Bath, where I heard Mr. Wesley preach : and from 
Bath I walked to Bradford, where I again heard him preach in 



LEAVES KINGSW00D. 



147 



the evening. That night I lodged at the house of Mr. Pearce; 
a man who was a pattern of every excellence that constitutes 
the Christian character : and the next day I set out into my 
circuit, of which Trowbridge was the first place. 

" Though burdened with a sense of my great unfitness for 
the work into which I was going, yet I left Kingswood without 
a sigh or a groan. It had been to me a place of unworthy treat- 
ment, not to say torment : but this had lasted only one month 
and two days ; thirty-one days too much, if God had not been 
pleased to order it otherwise. But the impressions made upon 
my mind by the bacf usage I received there, have never been 
erased : a sight of the place has ever filled me with distressing 
sensations ; and the bare recollection of the name never fails to 
bring with it associations both unpleasant and painful. Those 
who were instruments of my tribulation are gone to another 
tribunal ; and against them I never made any complaint." 

A younger person than Adam Clarke, had probably never 
gone out into the work of the ministry among the Methodists, 
or perhaps among any other people : and had not his been a 
case peculiar and singular, and which should never pass into a 
precedent, it would have been imprudent to have appointed so 
young a man to such a work, both for his own sake, and for the 
sake of those who were to sit under his ministry. 

Mr. C. was judged to be at this time about eighteen; and 
even small and youthful taken for that age : he was a mere 
boy, and was generally denominated the little boy. But he was in 
a very particular manner fitted for the work, by strong exercises 
of spirit, and by much experience and knowledge of his own 
heart, of the temptations of Satan, and of the goodness of God. 

His acquaintance with the Scriptures could not be extensive; 
but it was very correct as far as it went. 

Of the plan of salvation he had the most accurate know- 
ledge ; and in this respect, his trumpet could not. give an un- 
certain sound. He had received the word from God's mouth, 
and he gave the people warning from Him. He well knew 
those portions which applied to the stout-hearted and far from 
righteousness — to the penitent — the strongly tempted — the 
lukewarm — the believer — the backslider — and the self-right- 
eous. All these states he could readily discern ; and knew well 
how to address them. Besides, his ^mZknew no other bounds 
than those that limit the human race ; and its exertions under 
that influence, were confined only within the limits of his cor- 
poreal and mental strength. The Bible was his one book ; and 
Prayer his continual exercise. He frequently read it upon his 
knees ; and often watered it with his tears. He never entered 
the pulpit but with the conviction that if God did not help him 
by the influence of hi3 Spirit, his heart must be hard, and his 
mind dark, and consequently his word be without unction, and 



148 



HIS CREED. 



without effect. For this influence he besought God with strong 
crying and tears ; and he was seldom, if ever, left to himself. 

With respect to preaching itself, his diffidence was ex- 
treme ; and he felt it as a heavy burden which God had laid 
upon his shoulders ; and under which God alone could sup- 
port him : and, as he found in this case most emphatically, 
without God he could do nothing ; he was therefore led to 
watch and pray most earnestly and diligently, that he might 
be enabled to hold fast faith and a good conscience, that con- 
tinuing in God's favour, he might have reason to expect his 
support. 

Of the Methodists' economy, as it respected secular things, 
he knew little : it never entered into his mind that he was to 
have anything but his food: as to clothing, he did not antici- 
pate the thought of needing any. Purer motives, greater dis- 
interestedness, never dwelt in the breast of human being : he 
sought nothing but the favour of his Maker, and the salvation 
of souls, and to spend and be spent in this work. 

Of learning, he did not boast ; because he believed that he 
could not. He knew that he had the rudiments of literature, a 
moderate classical taste, and an insatiable thirst for know- 
ledge ; especially the knowledge of God and His works : his 
mind was not highly cultivated, but the soil was broken up, 
and was, in every respect, improvable. Such were the* 
qualifications of Adam Clarke, when, on Sept. 27, 1782, he 
went oat as an itinerant preacher among the people ealled 
Methodists. 

It has already been stated, that a thorough reading of the 
New Testament settled his Creed; no article of which he 
ever afterwards saw occasion to change. The principal 
Articles were the following : and for these he believed he had 
the unequivocal testimony of Scripture, the steady voice of 
reason, and the evidence of facts, as far as these could apply 
to the articles in question 



" I. That there is but one uncreated, unoriginated, infinite, 
and eternal Being ; — the Creator, Preserver, and Governor of 
all things. 

" II. There is in this Infinite Essence a Plurality of what 
we commonly call Persons ; not separately subsisting, but 
essentially belonging to the Deity or Godhead ; which Per- 
sons are generally termed Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ; or, 
God, the Logos, and the Holy Spirit, which are usually desig- 
nated the Trinity ; which term, though not found in the 
Scriptures, seems properly enough applied ; as we repeat- 
edly read of these Three, and never of more persons in the 
Godhead. 

' A TIL The Sacred Scriptures or Holy Books, which con- 



HIS CREED 



119 



stitute the Old and New Testaments, contain a fall revelation 
1 of the will of God, in reference to man; and are alone suffi- 
cient for every thing relative to the faith and practice of a 
Christian, and were given by the inspiration of God. 

"IV. Man was created in righteousness and true holiness, 
without any moral imperfection, or any kind of propensity to 
sin ; but free to stand or fall, according to the use of the 
powers and faculties he received from his Creator. 

" V. He fell from this state, became morally corrupt in his na- 
ture, and transmitted his moral defilement to all his posterity. 

" VI. To counteract the evil principle in the heart of man, 
and bring him into a salvable state, God, from his infinite love, 
formed the purpose of redeeming him from his lost estate, by 
the incarnation, in the fulness of time, of Jesus Christ; and, 
in the interim, sent his Holy Spirit to enlighten, strive with, 
and convince, men of sin ; righteousness, and judgment. 

" VII. In due time this Divine Person, called the Logos, 
Word, Saviour, &c, &c, did become incarnate; sojourned 
among men, teaching the purest truth, and working the most 
stupendous and beneficent miracles. 

" VIII. The above Person is really and properly God : was 
foretold as such, by the Prophets : described as such, by the 
Evangelists and Apostles ; and proved to be such, by His mi- 
racles ; and has assigned to Him by the inspired writers in 
general, every attribute essential to the Deity ; being One with 
Him who is called God, Jehovah, Lord, &e. 

" IX. He is also a perfect Man, in consequence of His In- 
carnation ; and in that Man, or Manhood, dwelt all the ful- 
ness of the Godhead bodily : so that His nature is twofold — 
Divine and Human, or God manifested in the flesh. 

" X. His Human Nature was begotten of the blessed Vir- 
gin Mary, through the creative energy of the Holy Ghost : but 
His Divine Nature, because God, infinite and eternal, is un- 
created, underived, and unbegotten ; and which, were it other- 
wise, He could not be God in any proper sense of the word : 
but He is most explicitly declared to be God in the Holy Scrip- 
tures ; and therefore the doctrine of the Eternal Sonship, must 
necessarily be false. — (See the Arg. p. 96.) 

" XI. As He took upon Him the nature of man, and died in 
that nature ; therefore, He died for the whole human race, 
without respect of persons : equally for all and every man. 

" XII. On the third day after His crucifixion, and burial, 
He rose from the dead ; and after shewing himself many days 
to His disciples and others, He ascended into Heaven, where, 
as God manifested in the Flesh, He is, and shall continue to 
be, the Mediator of the human race, till the consummation ot 
all things. 

"XIII. There is no salvation, but through him; and 
throughout the Scriptures His Passion and Death, are con- 
13* 



150 



HIS CREED. 



sidered as Sacrificial : pardon of sin and final salvation being 
obtained by the alone shedding of His blood. 

" XIV. No human being, since the fall, either has, or can 
have, merit or worthiness of, or by, himself; and therefore, 
has nothing to claim from God, but in the way of His mercy 
through Christ : therefore, pardon and every other blessing, 
promised in the Gospel, have been purchased by His Sacrifi 
cial Death ; and are given to men, not on the account of any 
thing they have done or suffered ; or can do or suffer ; but for 
His sake, or through his meritorious passion and death, alone. 

" XV. These blessings are received by faith ; because they 
are not of works nor of suffering. 

"XVI. The power to believe, or grace of faith, is the free 
gift of God, without which no man can believe : but the act 
of faith, or actually believing, is the act of the soul under that 
power : this power is withheld from no man ; but, like all other 
gifts of God, it may be slighted, not used, or misused, in con- 
sequence of which is that declaration, He that believeth shall 
be saved ; but he that believeth not shall be damned. 

" XVII. Justification, or the pardon of sin, is an instanta- 
neous act of God's mercy in behalf of a penitent sinner, trust- 
ing only in the merits of Jesus Christ : and this act is absolute 
in reference to all past sin, all being forgiven where any is 
forgiven : gradual pardon, or progressive justification, being 
unscriptural and absurd. 

"XVIII. The souls of all believers may be purified from 
all sin in this life ; and a man may live under the continual 
influence of the grace of Christ, so as not to sin against God. 
All sinful tempers and evil propensities being destroyed, and 
his heart constantly filled with pure love both to God and 
man ; and, as love is the principle of obedience, he who loves 
God with all his heart, soul, mind, and strength, and his 
neighbour as himself, is incapable of doing wrong to either. 

"XIX. Unless a believer live and walk in the spirit of obe 
dience, he will fall from the grace of God, and forfeit all his 
Christian privileges and rights ; and, although he may be 
restored to the favour and image of his Maker from which he 
has fallen, yet it is possible that he may continue under the 
influence of this fall, and perish everlastingly. 

" XX. The whole period of human life is a state of pro- 
bation, in every point of which a sinner may repent, and turn 
to God : and in every point of it, a believer may give way to 
sin, and fall from grace : and this possibility of rising or fall- 
ing is essential to a state of trial or probation. 

" XXI. All the promises and threatenings of the Sacred 
Writings, as they regard man in reference to his being here 
and hereafter, are conditional ; and it is on this ground alone 
that the Holy Scriptures can be consistently interpreted or 
rightly understood. 



HIS CREED. 



151 



" XXII. Man is zfree agent, never being impelled by any- 
necessitating influence, either to do good, or evil : but has the 
continual power to choose the life or the death that are set be- 
fore him ; on which ground he is an accountable being, and 
answerable for his own actions : and on this ground also he is 
alone capable of being rewarded or punished. 

" XXIII. The free will of man is a necessary constituent 
of his rational soul j without "which he must be a mere machine, 
r — either the sport of blind chance, or the mere patient of an 
irresistible necessity ; and consequently, not accountable for 
any acts which were predetermined, and to which he was ir- 
resistibly compelled. 

"XXIV. Every human being has this freedom of will, with 
a sufficiency of light and power to direct its operations : but 
this powerful light is not inherent in any man's nature, but is 
graciously bestowed by Him who is The trice Light which 
lighteneth every man that cometh into the world. 

" XXV. Jesus Christ has made by His one offering upon 
the Cross, a sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and atonement for 
the sins of the whole world ; and His gracious Spirit strives 
with, and enlightens, all men ; thus putting them into a sal- 
vable state : therefore, every human soul may be saved if it 
be not his own fault. 

" XXVI. Jesus Christ has instituted, and commanded to 
be perpetuated, in His Church, two sacraments only: — 1. 
Baptism, sprinkling, washing with, or immersion in, water, 
in the name of the Holy and Ever-blessed Trinity, as a sign 
of the cleansing or regenerating influence of the Holy Spirit, 
by which influence a death unto sin and a new birth unto right- 
eousness, are produced : and 2. The Eucharist, or Lord's 
Supper, as commemorating the sacrificial death of Christ. 
And he instituted the first to be once only administered to the 
same person, for the above purpose, and as a rite of initiation 
into the visible church : and the second, that by its frequent 
administration all believers may be kept in mind of the foun- 
dation on which their salvation is built, and receive grace to 
enable them to adorn the doctrine of God their Saviour in all 
things. 

" XXVII. The soul is immaterial and immortal, and can 
subsist independently of the body. 

" XXVIII. There will be a general Resurrection of the 
dead ; both of the just and the unjust ; when the souls of 
both shall be re-united to their respective bodies ; both of 
which will be immortal and live eternally. 

" XXIX. There will be a general Judgment ; after which 
all shall be punished or rewarded, according to the deeds done 
in the body ; and the wicked shall be sent to hell, and the 
righteous taken to heaven. 

" XXX. These states of rewards and punishments shall 



152 



HIS CREED. 



have no end, for as much as the time of trial or probation shall 
then be for ever terminated ; and the succeeding state must 
necessarily be fixed and unalterable. 

" XXXI. The origin of human salvation is found in the 
infinite philanthropy of God; and, on this principle, the un- 
conditional reprobation of any soul is absolutely impossible. 

" XXXII. God has no secret will, in reference to man, 
which is contrary to his revealed will, — as this would shew 
Him to be an insincere Being, — professing benevolence to all, 
while he secretly purposed that that benevolence'should he ex- 
tended only to a few j a doctrine which appears blasphemous 
as it respects God, — and subversive of all moral good as it re- 
gards man, and totally at variance with the infinite rectitude of 
the Divine Nature." 

It is thought necessary to give these Articles of his Creed 
in his own words ; for, although they contain nothing but 
what the Church of God has received from its very founda- 
tion ; yet, the manner of proposing them is both original and 
precise, and well calculated to convey the sense of each. If 
ever language should be clear; — if ever terms should be 
strictly and accurately defined, and used in the most fixed and 
absolute sense ; — it is when they are used to express the ar- 
ticles of a religious creed : a subject in which the understand- 
ing and judgment are most intimately concerned, and in 
which man has his all at stake. 

On the Tenth Article, relative to the Eternal Sonship of 
Christ, there has been some difference betAveen him and some 
persons, who, in all other respects, held precisely the same 
doctrines. On this point, he has often been heard to say : — 
"Let my Argument on Luke i. 35, be proved false, which, if 
it could be, might, be done in as small a compass as that of the 
Argument itself, then I am prepared to demonstrate, from the 
principles of the Refutation, that Arianism is the genuine 
doctrine of the Gospel relative to the Person of Jesus Christ. 
But as that Argument cannot be confuted, and my Argument 
in favour of the proper Divinity of Jesus Christ, in my Sermon 
on Salvation by Faith, cannot be overthrown ; consequently, 
the doctrine of the proper and essential and underived Deity 
of Jesus Christ must stand, and that of the Eternal Sonship 
must be overwhelmed in its own error, darkness, and confusion." 

With the above Qualifications, and these Doctrines, Adam 
Clarke went out into the vineyard of his Lord, not to inspect 
the work of others, but to labour himself; and that the Great 
Head of the Church did, in the most signal manner bless and 
prosper this labour, has been witnessed by many thousands 
among whom he has gone preaching the kingdom of God ; 
witnessing powerfully to all, — Repentance towards God, and 
faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ, 



HE BECOMES AN ITINERANT PREACHER, 



153 



BOOK IV. 



i 

BRADFORD (WILTS) CIRCUIT, 1782—3. 

This circuit extended into three counties, Wilts, Somerset, 
and Dorset, and contained at that time the following places : 
Bradford, Trowbridge, Shaftsbury, Motcomb, Fontmill, Fol 
lard, Winsley, Shepton Mallet, Kingston Deverell, Longbridge 
Deverell, Bradley, Frome, Corsley, Buckland, Coalford, Hol- 
comb, Oak-hill, Bruton, West Pennard, Alhampton, Ditcheat, 
Freshford, Seend, Melksham, Devizes, Pottern, Sandy Lane, 
Broomham, Wells, Walton, and Road; — more than one place 
for every day in the month ; and the Preachers rarely stopped 
two days in the same place, and were almost constantly on 
horseback. This circumstance was advantageous to a young 
preacher, who could not be supposed to have any great variety 
of texts or of matter, and consequently not able as yet to mi- 
nister constantly to the same congregation. But, as Adam 
Clarke diligently read the scriptures, prayed much, and endea- 
voured to improve his mind, he added by slow degrees to his 
stock, and was better qualified to minister each time of his 
coming round his circuit. 

His youth was often a grievous trial to him ; and was the 
subject of many perplexing reasonings ; he thought, " How 
can I expect that men and women, persons of forty, threescore, 
or more years, will come out to hear a boy preach the gospel ! 
And is it likely, if through curiosity they do come, that they 
will believe what / say ! As to the young, they are too gay 
and giddy, to attend to divine things ; and if so, among whom 
lies the probability of my usefulness V — In every place, how- 
ever, the attendance was good, at least equal to that with which 
his fellow labourers were favoured ; and the people in every 
place treated him with the greatest kindness. He was enabled 
to act so that no man despised his youth; and the very cir- 
cumstance which he thought most against him, was that pre- 
cisely from which he gained his greatest advantages. 

When the little boy, as he was called, came to any place to 
preach, the congregations were always respectable, and in many 
places unusually large : and it soon appeared, that the Divine 
Spirit made the solemn truths he spoke, effectual to the salva- 
tion of many souls. 

One circumstance relative to this, should not be omitted, 



154 



SUCCESS IN HIS FIRST CIRCUIT. 



Road, a country village between Trowbridge and Frome, was 
one of the places which belonged to his circuit : but it was so 
circumstanced that only two out of the four preachers, could 
serve it during the quarter: and when the next quarter came, 
the other two took their places. As Mr. C. came late into the 
circuit, as has been already noticed, it did not come to his turn 
to visit that place before the spring of 1783. The congrega- 
tions here were very small, and there were only two or three 
who had the name of Methodists in the place. Previously to 
his coming, the report was very general that, " a little boy was 
to preach in the Methodists' chapel at such a time and all 
the young men and women in the place were determined to 
hear him. He came, and the place long before the time, was 
crowded with young persons of both sexes, from fourteen to 
twenty-five ; very few elderly persons could get in, the house 
being filled before they came. He preached, the attention was 
deep and solemn, and though crowded, the place was as still as 
death. After he preached he gave out that very affecting hymn, 
now strangely left out of the general Hymn book, — 

Vain, delusive world, adieu, 

With all thy creature good ! 
Only Jesus I pursue, 

Who bought me with his blood. 
All thy pleasures I forego, 

And trample on thy wealth and pride ; 
Only Jesus will I know, 

And Jesus crucified. 

The fine voices of this young company produced great effect 
in the singing. — As each verse ended with the two last lines 
above, when he sung the last, he stopped, and spoke to this 
effect, — " My dear young friends, you have joined with me 
heartily, and I dare say, sincerely, in singing this fine hymn, 
You know in whose presence we have been conducting this 
solemn service ; — the eyes of God, of angels, and perhaps of 
devils, have been upon us. And what have we been doing ? 
We have been promising in the sight of all these, and of each 
other, that we will renounce a vain delusive world — its plea- 
sures, pomp, and pride, and seek our happiness in God alone, 
and expect it through Him who shed his blood for us. And 
is not this the same to which we have been long previously 
bound by our baptismal vow. Have we not, when we were 
baptized, promised, either by ourselves, or sureties, (which 
promise if made in the latter way, we acknowledge we are 
bound to perform when we come of age,) To renounce the 
devil and all his works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked 
world, and all the sinful lusts of the flesh ; — that we will keep 
GooVs holy will and commandments, and walk in the same all 
the days of our life! This baptismal promise which you 



SUCCESS IN HIS FIRST CIRCUIT. 



155 



have so often repeated from your catechism, is precisely the 
same with that contained in the fine and affecting hymn which 
you have been now singing. Now, shall we promise and not 
perform ? Shall we vow, and not keep our vow ? God has 
heard what we have sung and said, and it is registered in 
heaven. What then do you purpose to do ? Will you con- 
tinue to live to the world, and forget that you owe your being 
to God, and have immortal souls which must spend an eternity 
in heaven or hell, according to the state they are found in 
when they leave this world ? We have no time to spare, 
scarcely any to deliberate in : the judge is at the door, and 
death is not far behind. I have tried both lives : and find that 
a religious life has an infinite preference beyond the other. 
Let us therefore heartily forsake sin, vanity, and folly, and 
seek God by earnest prayer, nor rest till we find He has 
blotted out ail our sins, purified our hearts, and filled us with 
peace and happiness. If we seek earnestly and seek through 
Christ Jesus, we cannot be unsuccessful." He then prayed, 
and many were deeply affected. That night and the next 
morning, thirteen persons, young men and women, came to 
him earnestly enquiring what they should do to be saved.* 
A religious concern became general throughout the village 
and neighbourhood; many young 'persons sought and found 
redemption in the blood of the Lamb. The old people seeing 
the earnestness, and consistent walk of the young, began to 
reflect upon their ways : many were deeply awakened, and 
those who had got into a cold or lukewarm state, began to 
arise and shake themselves from *he dust, and the revival of 
pure and undefiled religion became general. Thus God 
shewed him that the very circumstance (his youth) which he 
thought most against him and his usefulness, became a prin- 
cipal means in his Divine hand of his greatest ministerial 
success. Methodism in Road continued to prosper during 
the whole time he was in that circuit ; and when he visited 
them several years after, he found it. still in a flourishing 
state. 

In several other parts of this circuit, God blessed his work, 
and he and his brethren lived in peace and unity, and drew 
cordially in the same yoke ; and the people were everywhere 
satisfied with their teachers. Many who had long rested on 
their lees, were stirred up afresh ; and not a few were encou- 
raged to seek and find full redemption in the blood of the cross. 
It was on the whole, a year of prosperity, and Mr. C.'s heart 
grew in grace, and in the knowledge of Jesus Christ. 

He endeavoured to cultivate his mind also in useful know- 

* Fifty years after this event, one of these (then) young persons 
came and called upon Dr. Clarke, when he preached at Frome for the 
last time. See Appendix at the end of the Work, By the Rev. 
J, B. B, Clarke. 



156 PR0GRES3 IN, AND CHECK TO, HIS STUDIES. 

ledge ; but a circumstance took place which, through his in- 
experience, had nearly proved ruinous to the little knowledge 
which he had already acquired, and would utterly have pre- 
vented all future accessions to his little stock. This circum- 
stance requires distinct relation. He had not been long in this 
circuit before he received the Hebrew Gran/ mar. which, as 
we have already seen, he subscribed for at Kingswood. He 
entered heartily on the study of this sacred language, from this 
work ; which, though it promised much, yet really did perform 
a good deal. The copious lessons precluded for a time, the 
necessity of purchasing a Hebrew Bible : and the analysis 
accompanying each lesson, soon led him into the nature of 
the Hebrew language ; these are carefully compiled, and are, 
by far, the best part of that grammar. The other parts being 
confused, meagre, and difficult, though its pious author had 
thought, (for he inserted it in his title page,) that the whole 
was digested in so easy a way, that a child of seven years 
of age might arrive, without any other kind of help, at a 
competent knowledge of the sacred language ; a saying, which 
is in every part incorrect and exceptionable. The lessons and 
analytical parts are good, the rest of the work is nearly good 
for nothing. 

In his Latin, Greek, and French he could make little im- 
provement, having to travel several miles every day ; and 
preach, on an average, thirty days in every month, and to at- 
tend to many things that belonged to the work of a Methodist 
preacher. That he might not lose the whole time which he 
was obliged to employ in riding, he accustomed himself to 
read on horseback; and this he followed through the s ummer, 
and in the clear weather in general. In this way he read 
through the four volumes of Mr. Wesley's History of the 
Church, carefully abridged from Mosheim's larger worfi. In 
abridging from voluminous writers, Mr. "Wesley was emi- 
nently skilful ; and this is one of the best things he has done 
of this kind : but the original work by Mosheim, is the best 
Church History published before or since. The practice of 
reading on horseback is both dangerous, because of the acci- 
dents to which one is exposed on the road ; and injurious to 
the sight, as the muscles of the eye are brought into an un- 
natural state of contraction, in order to counteract the too 
great brilliancy of the light. Yet what could he do, who had 
so much to learn, so often to preach, and was every day on 
horseback? When he came in the evening to his place of 
residence for the night, he found no means of improvement, 
and seldom any place in which he could either conveniently 
study or pray. But the circumstance that had nearly put an 
end to his studies, is yet untold. In the preachers' room at 
Motcomb, near Shaftsbury, observing a Latin sentence writ- 
ten on the wall in pencil, relative to the vicissitudes of life, 



PROGRESS IN, AND CHECK. TO, HIS STUDIES. 157 

he wrote under it the following lines from Virgil, corrobora- 
tive of the sentiment ; — 

Quo fata trahunt retrahuntque, seqicamur. — 

Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum, 
Tenalimus in Caelum. 

Eneid. lib. v. 709. Ib. lib. 1. 204, 5. 

The next preacher that followed him in this place, seeing 
the above lines, which he could not understand, nor see the 
relation they bore to those previously written, wrote under 
them the following words :— 

Did you write the above 

to show us you could write Latin 1 

For shame ! Do send pride 

to hell, from whence it came. 

Oh, young man, improve your 

time, eternity's at hand." 

They who knew the writer, would at once recollect, on read- 
ing these words, the story of Diogenes and Plato. The latter 
giving an entertainment to some friends of Dionysius, Di- 
ogenes being present, trampled with disdain on some rich 
carpeting, saying, Ha™ ttjv UXutmos Ksvoa-rrovSiav, I trample under 
foot Plato' 's vain glory. To whom Plato replied, 'CW, c5 Aioye- 

v€$ } rov rvtyov SicKjiaivsis, Sokcou ^r] TCTVipoicOai , HOW pi OUCl thou arty O 

Diogenes, when thou supposest that thou art condemning 

pride I Mr. was naturally a proud man, though born in 

the humblest department of life : and it required all his grace 
to enable him to act with even the humble exterior which 
became a Christian minister ; he could ill brook an equal : and 
could worse tolerate a superior. The words, contemptible as 
they may appear, the circumstance considered which gave 
them birth, had a very unfriendly effect on the inexperienced 
simple heart of Mr. C, he was thrown into confusion : he 
knew not how to appear before the family who had a whole 
week to con over this reproachful effusion of a professed 
brother: in a moment of strong temptation, he fell on his 
knees in the midst of the room, and solemnly promised to God 
that he would never more meddle with Greek or Latin as 
long as he lived. As to Hebrew, he had not yet begun, 
properly speaking, to study it ; and therefore it could not be 
included in the proscription : but the vow had a paralyzing 
effect upon this, as well as on all his other studies : and gene- 
rally prevented the cultivation of his mind. He saw that 
learning might engender pride: and it was too plain that, 
instead of provoking emulation, it would only to him, excite 

envy. When he next saw Mr. he expostulated with him, 

for exposing in this most unkind manner, what he deemed to 
be wrong, — " Why," said he, "did you not tell me privately 
of it, or send the reproof in a note V* I thought what I did 
14 



158 



RABH VOWS. 



was the best method to cure you, replied Mr. . Mr. C. 

then told him what uncomfortable feelings it had produced in 
him; and how he had vowed to study literature no more! 
The other applauded his teachableness, and godly diligence, 
and assured him that he had never known any of the learned 
preachers who was not a conceited coxcomb, &c. &c. 

On what slight circumstances do the principal events of 
man's life depend! The mind of Mr. C. was at this time 
ductile in the extreme, in reference to every thing in Chris- 
tian experience and practice. He trembled at the thought of 
sin. He ever carried about with him not only a tender, but a 
scritpulous and sore conscience. He walked continually as in 
the sight of God ; and constantly felt that awful truth, Thmc 
Godseest me! To him, therefore, it was easy to make any 
sacrifice in his power : and this now made, had nearly ruined 
all his learned researches and scientific pursuits for ever ; and 
added one more to the already too ample company of the 
slothful servants, and religious loungers, in the Lord's inhe- 
ritance. What a blessing it is for young tender minds to be 
preserved from the management of ignorance and sloth ; and 
to get under the direction of prudence and discretion ! 

That such a vow as that now made by Mr. C. could not be 
acceptable in the sight of the Father of Lights, may be easily 
seen : but it was sincere, and made in such circumstances, as 
appeared to him to make it perfectly and lastingly binding. 
He now threw by, yet not without regret, his Greek Testament, 
endeavoured to forget all that he had learned ; and laboured 
to tear every thing of the kind for ever from his heart ! This sa- 
crifice was made, about the end of the year 1782 and was most 
religiously observed till about the year 1786, to his irreparable 
loss. That this vow was afterwards, on strong evidence of 
its impropriety, rescinded, the Reader will at once conjecture, 
who knows any thing of the general history of Mr. Clarke, 
and it is time to inform him how this change took place. It 
has already been stated that Mr. C. when very young, had 
learned a little French; as this was not included in the pro- 
scription already mentioned, he found himself at. liberty to 
read a portion of that language when it. came in his way. 
About 1786, he met with a piece of no ordinary merit, entitled, 
Discours sur V Eloquence de la Chaire, A Discourse on Pul- 
pit Eloquence ; by the Abbe Maury, then Preacher in Ordi- 
nary to Lewis XVI. ; since, Cardinal Maury, and but lately 
deceased. Mr. C. was much struck with the account there 
given of the preaching and success of one of the French 
Missionaries, of the name of Bridaine, and particularly with 
an extract of a Sermon, which the Abbe heard him preach in 
the Church of St, Sulpice in Paris, in the year 1751.* This 

* When Bridaine came to Paris, and it was known that he was to 
preach in the Church of St. Sulpice, great numbers of the highest 



RASH VOWS. 



159 



piece he translated, and sent to the Rev. J. Wesley, to be in- 
serted, if he approved of it, in the Arminian Magazine. — 
Mr. Wesley kindly received, and inserted the piece : and as 
he was ever as decided a friend to learning, as he was to re- 
ligion, both of which he illustrated by his Life and Writings, 
he wrote to Mr. C, — " Charging him to cultivate his mind as 
far as his circumstances would allow, and not to forget any 
thing he had ever learned." This was a word in season, and, 
next to the divine oracles, of the highest authority with Mr. 
C. He began to reason with himself thus : " What would 
he have me to do ? He certainly means that I should not for- 
get the Latin and Greek which I have learned : but then he 

ranks were attracted by his fame to hear him ; and when he ascended 
the pulpit, seeing bishops, and ecclesiastics, and nobles, and many of 
the most exalted and wealthy personages in the realm, all thronging 
to hear him ; — he thus began : — 

" A la vu« d'un auditoire si nouveau pour moi, il semble, mes frfcres, 
que je ne devrois ouvrir la bouche que pour vous demander grace, en 
faveur d'un pauvre missionnaire depourvu de tous les talens que vous 
exigez quand on vient vous parler de votre salut. J'eprouve cependant 
aujourd hui un sentiment bien different ; et si je suis humilie, gardez- 
vous de croire que je m'abaisse aux miserables inquietudes de la va- 
nite, comme si j'etois accoutume a me precher moi-meme. A Dieu 
ne plaise qu'un ministre du ciel pense jamais avoir besoin d'excuse 
aupres de vous ; car qui que vous soyez, vous n'etes tous comme moi 
que des pecheurs ; c'est devant votre Dieu et le mien que je me sens 
presse dans ce moment de frapper mapoitrine: jusqu'a present j'ai 
publie les justices du Tres-Haut dans des temples couverts de 
chaume; j'ai preche les rigueurs dela penitence a des infortunes qui 
manquoient de pain; j'ai annonce aux bons habitans des campagnes 
les verites les plus efFrayantes de ma religion. Gtu'ai-je fait, malheu- 
reux ! j'ai contriste les pauvres, les meilleurs amis de mon Dieu; j'ai 
porte l'epouvante et la douleur dans ces ames simples et fideles, que 
j'aurois du plaindre et consoler. C'est ici ou mes regards ne tombent 
que sur des grands, surdes riches, sur des oppresseurs de l'humanite 
soufFrante, ou sur des pecheurs audacieux et endurcis ; ah ! c'est ici 
seulement qu'il falloit faire retentir la parole sainte dans toute la force 
de sontonnerre; et placer avec moi dans cette chaire, d'un cote, la 
mort qui vous menace, de l'autre, mon grand Dieu qui vient vous 
juger. Je tiens aujourd'hui votre sentence a la main ; tremblez done 
devant moi, hommes superbes et dedaigneux qui m'ecoutez ! La ne- 
cessite du salut, la certitude de la mort, l'incertitude de cette heure si 
effroyable pour vous, l'impenitence finale, le jugement dernier, le petit 

nombre des elus, l'enfer, et pardessus tout, l'eternite l'eternite ! 

Voila les sujets dont je viens vous entretenir et que j'aurois du sans 
doute reserver pour vous seuls. Eh ! qu'ai-je besoin de vos suffrages, 
qui me damneroient peut-etre sans vous sauver ? Dieu va vous emou- 
voir, tandis que son indigne ministre vous parlera ; car j'ai acquis une 
longue experience de ses misericordes ; alors, penetres d'horreur pour 
vos iniquites passees vous voudrez vous jeter entre mes bras en ver- 
sant des larmes de componction et de repentir, et a force de remords 
yous me trouverez assez eloquent." 



160 



RASH VOWS. 



does not know, that by a solemn vow, I have abjured the study 
of these languages for ever. But was such avow lawful: is 
the study of Hebrew and Greek, the languages in which God 
has ven the Old and New Testaments, sinful ? It must have 
been laudable in some, else we should have had no transla- 
tions. Is it likely that what must have been laudable in those 
who have translated the Sacred Writings, can be sinful to 
any — especially to ministers of God's holy Word? I have 
made the vow it is true ; but who required this at my hand % 
What have I gained by it? I was told it was dangerous, and 
would fill me with pride, and pride would lead me to perdition : 

but w r ho told me so ? Could Mr. , at whose suggestions 1 

abandoned all these studies, be considered a competent judge : 
a man who was himself totally illiterate as it regarded either 
language or science ? And what have I gained by this great 
sacrifice, made most evidently without divine authority, and 
without the approbation of my own reason ? Am I more hum- 
ble, more spiritual ; and above all, have I been more useful 
than I should have been, had I not abandoned those languages 
in which the words of the Prophets, Evangelists, and Apos- 
tles were written ? I fear I have been totally in an error : and 
that my vow may rank in the highest part of the catalogue of 
rash vows. Allowing even that my vow in such circum- 
stances, can be considered in any respect binding ; which is 
the greater evil, to keep or to break it 1 — I should beg pardon 
from God for having made it ; and if it were sinful to make 
it, it is most undoubtedly sinful to keep it." — Thus he reasoned, 
and at last came to the firm purpose to be no longer bound by 
what he had neither the authority of God nor reason to make. 
He kneeled clown and begged God to forgive the rash vow, 
and in mercy, to undo any obligation which might remain, 
because of the solemn manner in which it had been made. — 
He arose satisfied that he had done wrong in making it ; and 
that God required him now, to cultivate his mind in every 
possible way, that he might be a -workman that need not to be 
ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. He felt a con- 
viction that he had done right, and such a satisfaction of mind 
as he did not find when he made that vow ; the making of 
which, because of its consequences, {nearly four years* loss 
of time,) he had ever reason to deplore. 

The charm being thus broken, Mr. C. had all his work to 
begin de novo ; and was astonished to find how much he had 
forgotten of his schooi-boy learning. In short he w r as obliged 
to begin his grammar' again, and found it hard work to lay a 
second foundation, till practice and the association of ideas, 
levelled and smoothed the rugged path. 

It has been often said, that the Methodists undervalue and 
cry down all human learning. This is not true : there is no 
religious people in the land that value it more, nor indeed is 



HIS METHOD OF GAINING TIME. 



101 



there any under greater obligation to it than they are: the 
learning of their Founder was as necessary, under God ; to the 
revival and support of true religion in the land, as his zeal 
and piety were. The great body of the Methodists love learn- 
ing ; and when they find it in their preachers, associated with 
humility and piety, they praise God for the double benefit and 
profit by both. 

In the course of this same year, 1782, he read Mr. Wesley's 
Letter on Tea ; when he had finished it, he said : " There are 
arguments here which I cannot answer ; and till I can answer 
them to my own satisfaction, I will neither drink tea nor cof- 
fee." He broke off the habit from that hour, never afterwards 
sought for arguments to overturn those of Mr. Wesley, and 
from that day to the present, never once tasted tea or coffee ! 
Here is a perseverance rarely equalled : and to this he was 
providentially led. He spent that time in reading and study 
which he must otherwise have spent at the tea table : and by 
this, in the course of thirty-seven years, he has saved several 
whole years of time; every hour of which was devoted to self- 
improvement, or some part of that great work which the Pro- 
vidence of God gave him to do. For a short time after he left 
off the use of those exotics, he took in the evenings, a cup of 
milk and water, or a cup of weak infusion of camomile; but 
as he found that he gained no time by this means, and the 
gaining of time was his great object, he gave that totally up ; 
never tasting any thing from dinner to supper. In the morn- 
ing he found it easy to supply the place of tea and coffee, by 
taking milk in some form or other ; or any other aliment which 
the junior parts of the families where he lodged, were accus- 
tomed to take for their breakfast. In his Letter to a Preacher, 
since published, he has adverted strongly to this circumstance. 
Mr. Wesley himself, after having left off the use of tea and 
coffee for twelve years, resumed it and continued the use of 
these beverages to his death : his pupil, A. C, followed his 
councils without attending to his practice, as zealously as ever 
the Rechabites did those of their founder Jehonadab. What 
A. G. has gained by this sacrifice, has amply compensated the 
cost. 

This year, the Conference was held in Bristol ; Mr. C. had 
no thought of attending, till on the first of August, a letter 
came, requiring him to attend : the next day, Saturday, he set 
off, and reached Bristol the same day. How he spent the next 
day, which was the Sabbath, may be seen from the following 
entry in his Journal. 

" Sunday, Aug. 3, 1783. At five this morning, I heard a 
very useful sermon from Mr. Mather, at the chapel Broad 
Mead, on Isai. xxxv. 3, 4. I then went to Guinea Street cha- 
pel, where I heard Mr. Bradburn preach on Christian perfec- 
tion, from 1 John iv. 19. This was, without exception, the best 
14* 



162 HE GOES TO THE METHODIST CONFERENCE. 

sermon I had ever heard on the subject. When this was ended, 
I posted to the Drawbridge, and heard Mr. Joseph T ay lot 
preach an excellent and affecting discourse on Rom. v. 21. 
This ended, I returned to my lodging and breakfasted; and 
then, at ten o'clock, heard Mr. Wesley preach at Broad Mead, 
on Acts i. 5. After sermon he, assisted by Dr. Coke, the Rev. 
B. B. Collins, and the Rev. Cornelius Bayley, delivered the 
Holy Sacrament to a vast concourse of people ; which I also 
received to my comfort. When dinner was ended, I heard 
the Rev. B. B. Collins preach at Temple church, on Mark xvi. 
15. 16. I next went and heard Mr. Wesley in Carolina Court, 
on Heb. vi. l ; after which he met the society at the chapel 
Broad Mead, and read over a part of his Journal, relative to 
his late visit to Hollands To conclude the whole, I then 
posted to King^s Down, where I heard Mr. T. Hanby preach 
an awakening sermon, on 1 Peter iv. 18. Thus I have,'in one 
day, by carefully redeeming time, and buying up every oppor- 
tunity, heard seven sermons, three of which were delivered 
out of doors. Surely this has been a day in which much has 
been given me ; and much will the Lord require : O grant 
that I may be enabled to render Thee a good account. Though 
the whole of the day has been spent in religious exercises, yet 
such is my unprofitableness, that I could not stand in the 
judgment even for this day. But Q, my glorious Saviour, 
Thou art still my High-priest to offer my most holy things to 
God, which can be rendered acceptable to Him only through 
the sprinkling of Thy blood." 

On Wednesday, Aug. 6th, Mr. Clarke was admitted into 
Fidl Connexion, after having travelled only about eleven 
months. Even at that time, before it was determined that 
each preacher should travel four years on trial, this was, per- 
haps, the earliest admission that, had ever taken place. It was 
to him, as he expresses it in his Journal, the most solemn or- 
dinance in which he had ever engaged. u This day," says he, 
" I have promised much before God and His people : may 
I ever be found true to my engagements. In particular, I have 
solemnly promised, to devote my whole strength to the work 
of God, and never to be triflingly employed one moment. — 
Lord, I fear much that I shall not be found faithful. But 
Thou hast said, my grace shall be sufficient for thee ! Even so, 
let it be, Lord Jesus !" 

When preachers on trial are admitted into Full Connexion 
with the body of the Methodist preachers ; — among many im- 
portant questions put to them is the following, Are you in 
debt? To this the most satisfactory answer must be given. — 
Through rather a whimsical incident, this question was likely 
to have deeply puzzled and nonplused Mr. Clarke. Walking 
in the street that morning with another preacher, a poor man 



CONSCIENTIOUS SCRUPULOSITY. 



163 



asked a halfpenny. Mr. C. had none, but horrowed one from 
the preacher who was walking with him. That preacher hap- 
pening to go out of town, he could not see him during the day 
to repay this small sum. When he stood up with the others 
he knew not what to say, when the question, Are you in debt ? 
should be proposed : he thought, u If I say I am in debt, they 
will ask me How much ? when I say I owe one halfpenny, 
they will naturally suppose me to be a fool. If I say / am 
not in debt, this will be a lie ; for I owe one half-penny, and 
am as truly under the obligation to pay, as if the sum were 
twenty pounds, and while I owe that I cannot, consistently 
with eternal truth, say, / am not in debt." He was now most 
completely within the horns of a dilemma ; and which to take 
he knew not, and the question being put to him before he could 
make up his mind — u Mr. Clarke, are you in debt?" he dis- 
solved the difficulty in a moment, by answering — Not one 
penny. Thus both his credit and his conscience were saved. 
The Reader may smile at all this, but the situation to him 
was, for some hours, very embarrassing. 

At this Conference he was appointed for Norwich, to 
which he set out on Monday, 11th, on horseback, and reached 
that city on the evening of Saturday, August 16th, 1783. 

It may be necessary to say here, a few words relative to the 
state of his own mind, in this first year of his itinerant labours. 
During the little more than ten months he was in this circuit, 
he preached 506 times, beside giving a great number of-pub- 
lic exhortations, and paying innumerable visits to the different 
families of the societies where he resided even for a day and 
night, to pray with them and inquire into the state of their 
souls. He preached also at five o^clock every morning, win- 
ter and summer, in the different towns in the circuit, such as 
Bradford, Trowbridge, Frome, Devizes, Coalford, Shepton 
Mallet, Shaftsbury, &c. &c. 

His mind was variously and powerfully exercised : he kept 
the strictest watch over his heart ; and scrutinized daily and 
hourly, the walk of every affection, passion, and appetite : and 
was so severe a censor of his own conduct, that he frequently 
condemned himself, in matters which were either innocent in 
themselves, or perfectly indifferent. His almost incessant cry 
was after holiness : — to be cleansed from all sin, and filled 
with God, he saw to be the high calling of the Gospel, and 
the birthright of every son and daughter of God. He could 
not be satisfied while he felt one temper or disposition that 
was not in harmony with the will and word of God. His 
mind was full of light, and his conscience was tender ; and 
he was ever either walking with God, or following hard after 
Him, His Journals mark scarcely anything but the state ol 
his soul, his spiritual conflicts, resolutions, consolations, and 
depressions. He tithed even mint and cummin, and never 



164 



ON RELIGIOUS JOURNALS. 



left unregarded the weightier matters of the law. The people 
he was incessantly urging to holiness of heart and life. Re- 
pentance ; — justification by faith in the sacrificial death ot 
Christ ; — the witness of the Spirit in the consciences of true 
believers; — Christian perfection, or the purification of the 
soul from all sin in this life ; — and the necessity of universal 
outward holiness ; were the doctrines which he constantly 
pressed on the attention and hearts of his hearers ; and under 
this preaching many were turned to the Lord ; and many built 
up on their most holy faith. 

His Journals, which he kept carefully for several years, bear 
ample proof of these things : but I have judged it better to 
give this general account, than to make extracts where there 
can be so little variety of matter, and where the same things, 
and things synonymous, are perpetually occurring. 

From the unfortunate day already mentioned, on which he 
sacrificed by vow all farther prosecution of learning, he never 
attempted to mingle observations on men or manners in his 
Diaries, — tjie whole was merely spiritual, and necessarily 
monotonous. This became at last so heavy to himself, that 
he discontinued all regular entries of this kind, about the end 
of Aug. 1785 : occasional remarks in his interleaved Ephe- 
meris, relative to his progress in the knowledge of God and 
of his own heart, are all that remain of this species of writing. 
When he has been asked whether he would not publish his 
Journal, or leave it to be published, he has answered : " I do 
not intend it : the experience of all religious people is nearly 
alike ; in the main entirely so. When you have read the 
Journal of one pious man of common sense, you have read a 
trrousand. After the first it is only the change of names, 
times, and places ; all the rest as to piety, is alike."* 

The intelligent reader will scarcely dissent from this opi- 
nion, who has read many religious Journals. 

THE NORWICH CIRCUIT, 1783—4. 

On Saturday, Aug. 16, 1783, Mr. Clarke arrived in the city 
of Norwich, the head place of the circuit, and found one of 
the late preachers ill of a fever: and although he was obliged 
to sleep in the same room, the smell of which was pestiferous, 
yet through God's mercy he did not catch the disorder. The 
circuit extended into different parts of Norfolk and Suffolk, and 
included the following places ; Norwich, Yarmouth, Lowe- 
stoffe, Loddon, Heckingham, North Cove, Teasborough, Strat- 
ton, Hard wick, Thurlton, Haddiscoe, Beccles, Wheatacre, 

* I knew my father's mind concerning his Journals ; and therefore, 
since his decease, every word of all of them has been committed to the 
flames. 



STATIONED AT NORWICH. 



165 



Lopham, Diss, Whartham, Dickleborough, Winfarthing, Bar- 
ford, Hempnel, Besthorp, and Thurne. In all, twenty-two 
places. Each preacher continued one week in the city, and 
then spent three weeks in the country ; and to go round the 
places in the month was a journey of above 260 miles. 
The preachers who labored with him Were, Richard What- 
coat, John Ingham, and William Adamson. The former 
was a very holy man of God, a good and sound preacher, 
but not of splendid abilities. . He was diligent and orderly 
in his work ; and a fine example of practical piety in all his con- 
duct. The year after, at the earnest request of Dr. Coke, he 
went over to America, and there became one of the bishops of 
the Methodist-episcopal church — pursued among the transat- 
lantic brethren, the same noiseless tenor of his way, seeking 
only the establishment of the kingdom of God both in him- 
self and others : and died in the faith, universally esteemed. 

Mr. L was a good natured man, of no learning, and of but 
slender abilities ; yet he had a sort of popular address that 
helped him to make his way in the circuit. He professed to 
cure many disorders : and his prescriptions were made up of 
a 'pennyworth of oil of leeks, a pennyworth of oil of swalloxcs, 
&c. &c, all as equally efficacious as they were attainable. 
But although the apothecaries and druggists had no such 
medicaments, they gave the poor people something under those 
names, that would do as well, and thus but little harm was 
done. He was himself a most disgusting slave to tobacco ; 
and never preached without a quid in his mouth ! The Me- 
thodist connexion have wisely proscribed both quackery and 
tobacco; as, in all their forms, they are disgraceful to a Chris- 
tian minister. They are also dangerous : the former leads to 
many snares ; especially in reference to females : the latter is 
so closely associated with intemperance in drinking, that few 
of its votaries escape. Thus poor Ingham fell the following 
year ; and was heard of in the church of God no more. 

W. Adamson was a young man, very sincere, had got the 
rudiments of a classical education ; but was of such an un- 
steady, fickle mind, that he excelled in nothing. The next 
year he retired from preaching. 

In every respect the circuit was low. There was no place 
in it, in which religion flourished, either among the Methodists 
or others : lukewarmness and Antinomianism generally pre- 
vailed; and if any thing prospered, it was Calvinism as a 
system, many putting much of their trust for salvation in a 
belief of its doctrines. Among many in the city of Norwich, 
this was carried to the wildest extremes. There were even 
in the Methodists' society several local preachers, that were 
Calvinists and leaders of classes : and, in consequence, the 
people were unhinged an<J unsteady, and made no progress 
either in piety or practical godliness ; for they were continu 



166 



STATE OF METHODISM IN NORWICH. 



ally halting between two opinions. Yet there were many 
good and sensible people in the society, whose life and con- 
versation adorned the doctrine of God their Saviour. And in 
the course of the year, religion revived a little, principally 
through the preaching of the doctrine of entire sanctificationj 
or complete redemption from all sin in this life. Several 
saw this to be their privilege, and sought it with their whole 
heart. 

In Norwich the society was very poor : a family lived in the 
preachers' house, and provided for the preachers at so much per 
meal, and the bill was brought in to the stewards' and lead- 
ers meeting at the end of the week, and discharged : and he 
was most certainly considered the best preacher who ate the 
fewest meals, because his bills were the smallest. In this 
respect Mr. Clarke excelled : he took only a little milk to his 
breakfast, drank no tea or coffee ; and took nothing in the 
evening. Hence his bills were very small. Sometimes, but 
not often, the preachers were invited out, and this also contri- 
buted to lessen the expense. 

One ludicrous circumstance, relative to an invitation to 
breakfast, I may here mention. After Mr. Clarke had preach- 
ed one morning at 5 o'clock, a young woman of the society 
came to him and said j " Sir, will you do me the favour to 
breakfast with me this morning ? I breakfast always at eight 
o'clock." I thank you, said he, but I know not where you live. 

" O," said she, " I live in Street, near Maudlin gate, No. 

— ." / do not know the place. " Well, but you cannot well 
miss it, after the directions I shall give you." Very well. 
" You must cross Cherry Lane, and go on to the Quakers J 
preaching-house : — do you know it ?" Yes. " Well then, 
leave the Quakers' preaching-house on the left hand, and go 
down that lane till you come to the bottom ; and then on your 
right hand you will see a door that appears to lead into a gar- 
den, with an inscription over it: can you read?" Yes, a lit- 
tle. " Well then, the board will direct you so and so, and you 
cannot then miss." Thank you : I shall endeavour to be with 
you at the time appointed. " I went," said Mr. C, " and be- 
cause I had the happiness of being able to read, I found out 
my way !" 

This, little anecdote will serve to shew, that in those times 
the Methodists could not expect much from their ministers ; 
as it appears they thought it possible, they might have some 
that could not read their Bible ! Howsoever illiterate they 
may have been deemed, it may be safely asserted, no instance 
is on record of an itinerant preacher among the Methodists 
being unable to read his Bible. Many, it is true, of the ori- 
ginal preachers, could read but indifferently : and I have known 
several of the clergy who did not excel even in this : and I 
have known one who, in reading 2 Kings xix, made three 



ANECDOTES. 



167 



unsuccessful trials to pronounce the word Sennacherib, — Sen- 
nacrib, Sennacherub, and terminated with Snatchcrab ! But 
such swallows make no summers ; and should never be pro- 
duced as instances from which the general character of a class 
or body of men should be deduced. The time is long past 
since men in any department of life have been prized on ac- 
count of their ignorance. 

I shall give another anecdote, which, with the intelligent 
Reader, will not place Mr. C. in a disadvantageous point of 
view. 

The coals in Norwich are remarkably bad, and it is a com- 
mon custom to blow the fire almost continually, in order to 
keep it alive, or to perform the operations of cookery. Hence 
a pair of bellows, the general bane of fires, is a useful appen- 
dage to a Norwich kitchen, and parlour also. When Mr. C. 
entered on his lodging in the preachers' house in this city, he 
found the bellows worn out, so that they would held no wind ; 
and the fire-riddle, or instrument by which they sifted the ashes 
and returned all the cinders to the grate, worn beyond use. 
The poker also was burnt to the stump. He said to Mrs. P., 
the housekeeper, " Why do you not get new instruments here, 
or else get these repaired?" — u O dear, sir, we cannot do either, 
the society is so poor." — " Is it so ? well, something may be 
done. I cannot mend the poker, for that requires a forge ; 
but I think I can mend the bellows and the riddle" — " Can 
you ?" — " Yes, if you can furnish me with a little leather, no 
matter, old or new, and an old tin kettle or saucepan. Take 
these pence, and go and bring me a hundred of twopenny 
tacks." An old pair of leathern small clothes, furnished him 
with materials for mending the bellows ; which he soon made 
air tight : and an old saucepan, which he unsoldered by hold- 
ing over the fire, furnished tin to mend the riddle. He bor- 
rowed a stab awl and a hammer, from a shoemaker, and get- 
ting an old pair of scissors, he cut out the tin, punched in it 
the necessary holes, used the tacks as rivets, having a fat 
iron for an anvil, which he held between his knees ; and thus 
soon restored this necessary instrument to effective usefulness. 
Thus, at the expense of twopence to himself, he made these 
two instruments serviceable : and the stewards, seeing this, 
mustered courage to get the poker new bitted ! 

In this city he frequently cleaned and blacked his own 
shoes, and those of his brethren, as there was no person re- 
gularly employed to do this service. He found no difficulty 
in acting according to the advice given to preachers when ad- 
mitted into the Methodist connexion : " Do not affect the gen- 
tleman ; and be not above cleaning your own shoes, or those 
of others, if need be." 

There was but one horse in the circuit for the four preach- 
ers, which, when the preacher who had it out in the circuit 



168 



PRIMITIVE METHODISM. 



came into town, he who had been the resident preacher the 
week before, immediately mounted, and rode off to the coun- 
try, in order to save expense. Thus it must frequently hap- 
pen that while another was riding his horse, Mr. C. was obliged 
to walk the circuit, and carry his saddle-bags on his back, that 
contained his linen and a few books. It v>as curious to see 
him set off from the chapel in Cherry Lane, his bags tied upon 
his back, and thus walk through the city of Norwich, and re- 
turn in the same way, several days after, covered with dust or 
mud, and greatly fatigued. But this was far from being the 
worst: except at a very few places, the accommodations were 
exceedingly bad. Sometimes in the severest weeks of one 
of the most severe winters, he was obliged to lodge in a loft, 
where, through the floor he could see every thing below ; and 
sometimes in an out-house, where perhaps, for seven years to- 
gether, there had not been a spark of fire lighted. The win- 
ter of 1783 was exceedingly severe, and the cold intense : — 
even warm water in his room, has been frozen in a few se- 
conds ! He has often been obliged to get into bed with a part 
of his clothes on ; strip them off by degrees as the bed got 
warmed ; and then lie in the same position, without attempt- 
ing to move his limbs, every unoccupied place in the bed, 
which his legs or other parts touched, producing the same 
sensation, as if the parts had been brought into contact with 
red hot iron. It was here that he learned that the extreme of 
cold produced on the living muscle, precisely the same sensa- 
tion as the extreme of heat ; and this rendered credible what 
a friend of his, who had travelled in Russia, told him, that if 
he laid hold on any iron exposed to the open air, he could not 
separate his hand from it but at the expense of that part of the 
skin and flesh which came in contact with the metal. 

In several, places that year the snow lay from ten to fifteen 
feet deep. It began to fall Dec. 25, and was not all gone be- 
fore the middle of the following April. The frost was so in- 
tense that succeeded, that he could seldom keep his saddle 
five minutes together, but must alight and walk and run, to 
prevent his feet from being frost-bitten. In the poor cabins 
where he lodged, and where there was no other kind of fire 
than what was produced by a sort of dried turf, almost entirely 
red earth, that never emitted any flame; and where the clo- 
thing on the bed was very light, he suffered much ; going to bed 
cold, lying all night cold, and rising cold. He has sometimes 
carried with him a parcel of coarse brown paper, and with a 
hammer and chisel^ payed up some of the larger crevices un- 
der the bed, to prevent him from total starvation ! Add to all 
this, very homely food, and sometimes but little of it ; which 
the poor people most readily shared with him who came to 
their houses and their hearts with the Gospel of their salva- 
tion; and who, except for such preaching, must have been al- 



PRIMITIVE METHODISM. 



169 



most totally destitute of that instruction, without which there 
was little hope of their salvation. It was by these means, 
and often in such circumstances, through many privations, 
much pain and suffering, the Methodist preachers spread scrip- 
tural Christianity throughout the land; and became the means 
of ameliorating the moral and civil condition of the great mass 
of its comparatively poor, and almost totally neglected inha- 
bitants : L e. of those who are emphatically said to constitute 
its lower orders. To such preaching the nation and the state 
are under endless obligation. 

Ye ministers, who have entered this vineyard in the halcyon 
days of the Church, think of what your predecessors have suf- 
fered, to make plain paths for your feet to walk in. And see 
that ye give all diligence to maintain that ground which they 
have gained by inches, and at the hazard and nearly the ex- 
pense of their lives. Talk not of your hardships and priva- 
tions ; for of these ye can know comparatively nothing. 

This was a year of severe labour and suffering, yet of but 
little apparent fruit ; though a good seed was sown, which in 
more auspicious times sprang up to the glory of God. The 
American war was just terminated ; and shortly after, peace 
began to flourish, and confidence was restored. Mr. C. preach- 
ed in several new places, and among the rest in Diss, then, 
very unpromising, but now the head of a circuit. He has 
gone frequently there, put up his horse at an Inn, preached, 
paid for his horse, and rode several miles to preach at some 
other place, without any soul offering him even a morsel of 
bread : and such was the state of his finances that both he and 
his horse could not eat, and the poor brute must not fast. What 
could three pounds per quarter do, besides providing clothes, 
a few books, and all necessaries of life, the mere articles of 
food excepted ; which, as we have seen, was furnished at the 
different places where he preached. These twelve pounds per 
ami. out of which each preacher paid a guinea for the support 
of superannuated preachers and preachers' widows, was the 
ichole salary of a Methodist itinerant preacher. 

In this circuit he laboured much to improve his mind ; and 
also to grow in grace, and in the knowledge of himself and 
God. In Lowestoffe he met with some very kind friends : 
among the chief of these were the late Mr. Thos. Tripp, and 
Mr. Thos. Mallet. The former let him have the use of a 
small but valuable Library, whenever he came to the place ; 
and the latter lent him some valuable papers on various pas- 
sages of Scripture, which were of very great use to him. In- 
deed he was entertained at the houses of these men, as at the 
house of a parent : and of their kindness he ever spoke in the 
highest terms. 

I find the following entries in Mr. Clarke's Journal of this 
month : — 

15 



170 



EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL. 



" Mond. Oct. 20. Mr. Wesley is just now paying his an- 
nual visit to Norwich; and I have had the high gratification 
of hearing him preach from Psal. cxvi. 12. 'What shall I ren- 
der unto the Lord for all his benefits towards me ? I will take 
the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord. 5 

" In treating this subject he 1st, 4 took a view of the principal 
benefits which God has conferred upon mankind in general, 
and believers in particular, from their creation even to the 
smallest means of grace, of which they are made partakers. 5 

" 2. 1 He shewed what we should render unto God for these 
benefits : viz. to take the cup of salvation. The term cup, he 
shewed was a Hebraism signifying plenty, e. g. the cup of 
sorrow — of joy — of trembling ; and means plenty or abundance 
of sorrow, joy, trembling, &c. So by the cup of salvation, we 
are to understand plenty or abundance of salvation: and this 
consists in justification, and entire sanctification. 5 O Lord, 
how merciful and incomparably indulgent art thou to man- 
kind ! seeing all thou askest from them in return for former 
benefits, is that they would receive the abundance of those 
which thou hast further promised : — 

The sole return thy love requires 
Is, that we ask for more. 

" Tues. 21. Mr. W. preached again on Matt. xix. 6. 1 What 
God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. 5 On these 
words he observed in general, that men were prone to sepa- 
rate what God had joined ; and thus bring ruin on themselves. 
In particular, 1st. God hath joined piety and morality, but 
many separate these : for, leaving piety to God out of the 
question, they think an observance of external duties suffi- 
cient ; and thus remain without genuine hope, and without 
God in the world. 

" 2dly. He shewed that the same authority had joined the 
love of God, and the love of man together: but in this also 
many were wofully deficient ; pretending to love God, while 
hating their brother ; and pretending true friendship to man, 
while enemies to God. 

" 3dly. He hath also joined faith and works together ; so 
that in the sight and purpose of God, one cannot exist without 
the other. But many are contending for faith, while living 
in sin: and others contend for good works, while without 
faith in the great Redeemer of mankind. 

"4. God has joined the end and the means together : but 
many expect the accomplishment of the end, without using 
the means; they expect pardon, holiness, and heaven, without 
prayer, repentance, faith, and obedience. This he proved was 
sheer enthusiasm; — to expect the accomplishment of any end 
without using the means which lead to that end. On this 
point, he dwelt particularly, and brought the charge of enthu- 



EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL. 



171 



siasm home against the major part of the different religious 
professions in the nation." 

Mr. Clarke had the privilege of hearing Mr. Wesley preach 
twice each day during the remaining part of this week ; the 
following were the texts : — 

They despised the pleasant land; they believed not his 
word, Psal. cvi. 24. 

But we preach Christ crucified, 1 Cor. i. 23. 

Wherefore, he is able to save to the uttermost, Heb. vii. 25. 

For we look not at the things that are seen, 2 Cor. ivrl8. 

Put on the whole armour of God, Eph. vi. 11. &c. 

Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness, $c. 
Matt. v. 20. 

Ye shall be baptized with the Holy Ghost, §c. Acts, i. 5. 

The kingdom of God is at hand, Mark, i. 15. 

Of most of these Sermons he has preserved either the skele- 
tons, or the leading thoughts. 

When he parted with Mr. W. on Sat. 25, he made the fol- 
lowing entry in his Journal : — " Here, I took my farewell of 
this precious servant of God. O, Father, let thy angels attend 
him wheresoever he goes : — let the energetic power of thy 
Spirit accompany the words he shall speak, and apply them to 
the hearts of all that shall hear them ; and may they be the 
means of conviction, conversion, comfort^ and strength, to all, 
as they may severally require. And let me also abundantly 
profit by the things I have heard from him." 

At this time he had some private conversation with Mr. W. 
concerning the state of his soul, from which he derived much 
edification and strength. 



Before we proceed farther with this narrative, it may not be 
improper to relate the following anecdotes, which must be in- 
troduced by a few observations. 

Norfolk appeared to Mr. Clarke to be the most ungodly 
county he had ever yet visited. He found it generally irreli- 
gious. Except among a very few religious people the Sabbath- 
day was universally disregarded. Buying and selling were 
considered neither unseemly nor sinful; and on that day the 
sports of the field, particularly fowling, were general. — Multi- 
tudes even of those called religious people, bought and sold 
without any remorse. To find a man saved from this sin was 
a very rare thing indeed. Against this horrible profanation, 
Mr. C. lifted up a strong and steady voice : visited the members 
of his own society in different places, from house to house, who 
were guilty of this sin ; pointed out the evil of their conduct^ 
and exacted the promise of immediate reformation. 



172 



3ABBATH-BREAKING. 



At a place called Teasborough, he lodged and preached at 
the house of a miller, Mr. J. Nichols ; from him he received 
the following account of his conversion from the sin of Sab- 
bath-breaking. — " After I heard the Methodists preach, and 
avhs convinced of sin, I continued to work my mills, and sell 
meal and flour on the Lord's-day as usual. But in this practice 
I soon became very uneasy, being continually followed by 
those words, 1 Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath-day.' 1 
I at last determined, whatever might be the consequence, to 
give it up. I accordingly ordered my men to stop the mills on 
the Lord's-day, as I was determined to grind no more : and I 
informed my customers, that I should serve them no longer on 
the Sabbath, and hoped that they would make it convenient to 
come on the Saturday evening. Some affected to pity me ; 
others said they would go to other shops : but scarcely any 
supposed that I would be steady to my resolutions. The next 
Sabbath they came as usual, and every one was refused. — 
Their displeasure was general, and they went to other millers ; 
of whom there were several in the neighbourhood. The next 
Saturday, however, many of them came and were served ; and 
in a short time all, or as many as I had before, returned ; and 
now, far from being poorer, on account of this sacrifice, w r hich 
many said would be my ruin, I am this day at least one thou- 
sand pounds richer than I w T as then." 

Here, then, is a plain confutation, founded on a very strong 
fact, of that wretched objection : " If I do not sell on the Sab- 
bath I shall lose my customers, and so be reduced to poverty. " 
No. — Such persons do not make the trial, therefore, they can- 
not tell how it might be with them; and their objections are 
not to be regarded, as they are founded only on conjecture and 
uncertainty. At all events the thing should be abandoned, 
for it is a sin against God, and the order of society. 

Mr. N. farther said, that this practice became at last so 
oppressive to his mind, that he was obliged to leave his own 
house on the Lord's-day, and walk in the fields, that he might 
neither see nor hear his mills at work ; nor witness the sinful 
traffic that was carried on in his house. To this general 
neglect of the sabbath, Mr. C. attributed the small progress 
which religion made in this county. Suffolk, so far as he 
knew it, was very little better. 

The irreligion of this county farther appeared in a general 
hatred to the Gospel of Christ. In former days, persecution 
had raged in an uncommon degree ; and although that had in 
some measure subsided, yet there was still a decided hostility 
to religion. The preachers scarcely ever preached in Norwich 
on the Sabbath evening, without having less or more disturb- 
ance, or a mob at the chapel doors. Mr. Wesley himself was 
not better treated. Once when he visited Norwich, it was in 
company with Mr. John Hampson> senior. This man was 



MR. JOHN HAMPSON. 



173 



well known in the Methodist connexion, being many years an 
itinerant preacher. He was a man of gigantic make, well 
proportioned, and of the strongest muscular powers : he was 
also a man of strong understanding, and much grandeur of 
mind. — When Mr. W. had finished his discourse and was 
coming out of the chapel, they found the whole lane filled 
with a furious mob, who began to close in on Mr. W. Mr. 
Hampson immediately pushed forward, and from the attitude 
he assumed, Mr. W. supposed, he was about to enter into 
conflict with the mob ; he therefore addressed him with great 
earnestness, and said, " Pray, Mr. Hampson, do not use any 
violence." To which Mr. H. replied, with a terrible voice 
like the bursting roll of distant thunder, " Let me alone, Sir ; 
if God has not given you an arm to quell this mob, he has 
given me one : and the first man that molests you here, I will 
lay him for DEAD P 3 — Death itself seemed to speak in the 
last word — it was pronounced in a tone the most terrific. The 
mob heard, looked at the man, and were appalled — there was 
a universal rush, who should get off soonest : and in a very 
short time the lane was emptied, and the mob was dissipated 
like the thin air. Mr. Hampson had no need to let any man 
feel even the weight of his arm. — For such times as these, God 
has made such men. 

I shall mention one other anecdote of this most powerful 
man. — In the year 1788, the Methodists' Conference was held 
in London, at the great Chapel, City Road. Mr. Clarke was 
coming down the road, and a little before him Mr. George 
Holder, one of the preachers, and his wife ; it was near the 
blank wall of Bunhill Burying Ground ; — a hackney coachman 
drove so carelessly as nearly to crush Mr. and Mrs. H. to death, 
against the wall : they were however but little hurt. Mr. 
Hampson stood on the other side of the way and did not see 
the danger till it was past. — On being informed of it, (thecoach- 
man was then driving down the road,) in strong agitation, 
he addressed Mr. Holder—" What, and he was near crushing 
you and your wife to death against the wall ! Why, Sir, did 
you not take the rascal's coach by the wheel and turn it over !" 
He spake as he felt he could have done — a thing which not 
one in a million of men could have performed except himself. 
Poor Holder could not have lifted the nave of one of the 
wheels, much less the whole coach ! 

I find the following entry in his Journal, under the date of 
Sunday, January 4, 1784, which is too important to be passed 
by unnoticed. 

Mr. J. H., who had been master of Kingswood school, and 
several years a travelling preacher, had retired in the preceding 
year, and became resident in Norwich. He was a kind and 
affable man, but had unhappily drunk in the doctrines of 
Baron Swedenborgh. On a conversation that passed between 
15* 



174 



EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL. 



them this day, on the subject of the Trinity, Mr. C. was a 
good deal perplexed, and writes as follows. 

" I was a good deal distressed in my mind to-day, by con- 
versing with a preacher on the doctrine of the Trinity and 
some other points. Many, said he, are greatly puzzled with 
the mystery of the doctrine of the Trinity : but there is in 
truth, no mystery in it, if we leave out the unscriptural word 
verson. There is a Trinity; but it is not a trinity of persons; 
but, what is called God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, is 
only the Great God acting under three different characters. — 
He added several things more to the same effect ; and espe- 
cially against what he called the unscriptural and absurd doc- 
trine of three persons in the Godhead. Against this doctrine 
Mr. C. gave the following reasons. 'This appears to me ab- 
surd, as there are a multitude of characters under which God 
acts : if he is to be designated from such characters, as to his 
Godhead, this Godhead might be as well called a Denity, a 
Quadragintenity, yea, a Centenity, as well as a Trinity: as 
God acts under ten,' forty, yea, a hundred different characters 
in reference to man. Besides, that there is a Trinity of persons, 
in the most proper sense of the word, is proved by what hap- 
pened at the Baptism of our Lord, (Matt. iii. 16, 17:) where 
we find that he, the Son, was baptized, the Holy Ghost in a 
bodily form like a dove, lighted upon him, and a voice from 
God the Father, was heard out of heaven, declaring that this 
was his beloved Son. Here, it is most evident, there were 
three distinct persons, occupying three distinct places, and not 
one God acting under three distinct characters : this argument 
is most undoubtedly unanswerable. Again, we find two dis- 
tinct persons worshipped by the Angels in heaven : for there 
they worship God and the Lamb: not God under the charac- 
ter of a Lamb. Again, we are told to worship the Son, even 
as we worship the Father: now, if we believe that it is one 
person acting under different characters; and we are com- 
manded to worship the Son, that is, one of these characters; 
then this is not worshipping God, but one of the characters 
under which he acts, and this would be flat idolatry, were it not 
nonsense ; which, well for the sentiment, is neutralized by this 
absurdity. On this mode of explanation, this part of the doc- 
trine of Baron Swedenborgh must for ever stand seK-^onfuted.' 

" On this same day, Sunday, a dreadful judgment of God 
fell on some Sabbath-breakers. Three young lads, one of 
them son to the man with whom I lodged, went out in the 
morning, on a shooting party, as is the general custom in 
this irreligious county. They came to a hedge, and one 
got over ; the other, who held the gun, reached it through the 
hedge with its butt end foremost, to him who had just got over ; 
the third was behind him who carried the gun. Some of the 



EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL. 



175 



branches caught the trigger as he was pushing the gun through 
the hedge, and the gun went off. The lad who held the gun 
received no damage, for the muzzle was through under his 
arm, while striving to push the gun through the hedge. When 
the gun went off, he suddenly turned to the lad behind him, 
and said, Are you slwi? The other replied, / believe I am. 
The shot had torn away a part of the abdomen, and the intes- 
tines were issuing at the wound ! The lad who held the gun 
seeing this, dropped it and ran away to a pond that was at 
hand, and plunged in, with the intention to drown himself: 
but another party coming up, who were out on the same un- 
holy business, dragged him out. As soon as he came to him- 
self, and got out of their hands, he desperately jumped in a 
second time — and afterwards a third time : but he was rescued 
and taken to his master's house. When there, he made an 
attempt to cut his own throat with his knife. The lad who 
was shot, expired in about an hour: he was nineteen years of 
age. Behold here the goodness and severity of God ! Towards 
him who fell, severity, but to the others goodness, would they 
lay it to heart, and call upon God for mercy, that they might 
be saved from their sins, and from future punishment. The 
lad who held the gun by which the other was shot, being in a 
house j( about eighteen days before this accident took place) 
where I was writing the names of the members of the society 
upon the quarterly tickets, took up one of them into his hand, 
looked on it and held it for a considerable time: the verse 
which was upon the ticket, was this, Remember the Sabbath- 
day to keep it holy. Here was a sufficient warning ; and had 
he attended to it, he had not been the cause of this catastrophe. 
How evident will it appear at the day of judgment, that God 
is clear of the blood of all men ! who by various methods ap- 
prises them of the danger they are in, and the ruin to which 
they are exposed by their sin. God speaketh once, yea, twice, 
but men regard it not." 

While on this circuit, Mr. Clarke began to read Mr. Wes- 
ley's Philosophy. To subjects of this kind his heart had ever 
a strong propensity. On this point I find the following reflec- 
tions inserted, April: the 14th, 1784, in his Journal. 

" How do the unerring wisdom and goodness of God, appear 
in all the parts of the creation! How admirably well has he 
adjusted all the parts to answer their respective ends ! And is 
it not most evident that he has intended happiness for every 
being capable of it ? and particularly for man, favoured man, 
for whom all the rest appear to have been brought into exist- 
ence. See how the faculties of his soul, and the regular adjust- 
ment of all the parts of his body, proclaim at once the wisdom 
and benevolence of his Creator ! Hence ye unconditional re- 
probarian notions ; ye imputation of folly and sin to the Most 



176 



EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL. 



High, which teach that Infinite Wisdom and Love produced 
myriads of such beings as man, to be abandoned irrecoverably 
to eternal flames, merely to display the sovereignty of the 
Creator ! From whence ye have originated return, ye God- 
dishonouring principles ! Surely ye have derived your origin 
from him who is the implacable enemy of God and man ! He 
who can advocate them, if he be in human form, must have 
the heart of a Hyrcanian tiger. 

a . Every Christian should study philosophy ; as from it he 
will more evidently discover: — 1. That he who is so fearfully 
and wonderfully made, so marvellously preserved, and so 
bountifully fed, should give up unreservedly, his all to God, 
and devote the powers which he has received to the service of 
the Creator. 2. When atheistical notions would intrude, a 
few reflections on the manifold wisdom displayed in the crea- 
tion, may be the means of breaking the subtle snare of a de- 
signing foe. And, 3. by the study of nature, under grace, the 
soul becomes more enlarged, and is capable of bearing a more 
extensive, deeper, and better defined image of the divine per- 
fections." 

In this ; circuit Mr. C. heard of some celebrated female 
preachers, and he entered it with considerable prejudice against 
this kind of ministry. In one part of the circuit, Thurlton ) one 
of the most famous of these dwelt, Miss Mary Sev)ell. On his 
first coming to the house, he questioned her concerning her 
call, &c. And she modestly answered, by-referring him to 
the places where she had preached in the circuit ; and wisher] 
him to inquire among the people whether any good had been 
done. — He -did so, on his next visit to those parts, and heard of 
numbers who had been awakened under her ministry, and with 
several of these he conversed, and found their experience in di- 
vine things, scriptural and solid. He thought then, this is 
God's work, and if he choose to convert men by employing 
such means, who am I that I should criticise the ways of God ! 
On the 28th of April, 1784, he had the opportunity of hearing 
Miss Sewel preach; her text was, Eph. ii. 8. By grace ye are 
saved through faith. On which I find the following entry in 
his Journal.— 

" I have this morning heard Miss Sewell preach ; she has 
a good talent for exhortation, and her words spring from a heart 
that evidently feels deep concern for the souls of the people ; 
and, consequently, her hearers are interested and affected. I 
have formerly been no friend to female preaching ; but my sen- 
timents are a little altered. If God give to a holy woman, a 
gift for exhortation and reproof, I see no reason why it should 
not be used. This woman's preaching has done much good ; 
and fruits of it may be found copiously, in different places in 



ON FEMALE PREACHING. 



177 



the circuit. I can therefore adopt the saying of a shrewd man, 
who having heard her preach, and being asked his opinion of 
the lawfulness of it, answered, ' An ass reproved Balaam, and 
a cock reproved Peter, and why may not a woman reprove sin !' 

" Such women should be patterns of all piety, of unblameable 
conversation, correct and useful in their families, and furnished 
to every good work. This certainly is the character of Miss 
Sewell; may she ever maintain it." 

And she did maintain it, but she died soon after, as she had 
lived, in the faith and consolations of the Gospel. 

Shorly after this, he had the opportunity of hearing another of 
these female preachers, Mrs. Proudfoot: she spoke from Exod. 
iii. 3., And the bush was not burnt. Of her he remarks : — 

" She spoke several pertinent things, which tended both to 
conviction and consolation ; and seems to possess genuine piety. 
If the Lord choose to work in this way, shall my eye be evil 
because He is good ? God forbid ! Rather let me extol that 
God, who, by contemptible instruments, and the foolishness of 
preaching, saves those who believe in Jesus. Thou, Lord, 
choosest to confound the wisdom of the world by foolishness, 
and its strength by weakness, that no soul may glory in thy 
presence ; and that the excellency of the power may be seen to 
belong to Thee, alone. Had not this been the case, surely / 
had never been raised up to call sinners to repentance." 

In this Circuit, he appears to have had very many conflicts 
and spiritual exercises. His labours were severe : — he had 
much riding ; and, in most places, as we have already seen, un- 
comfortable lodging and fare. Besides, he frequently preached 
four times on the Sabbath, and in the morning at five o'clock, 
winter and summer, whenever he could get a congregation of 
sixteen or twenty persons to hear. He read a little Hebrew, and 
improved himself a little in French ; but Greek and Latin, as 
a study, we have already seen, were proscribed. He had every 
where the affections of the people ; and, although his labour was 
severe, this served to hold up his hands: and his gift of preach- 
ing increased. Good was done ; but there was no remarkable 
revival. He lived in harmony with his brethren, and espe- 
cially with Mr. Whatcoat, who ever acted as a father to him. 

A little before he left the Circuit, he wrote a long letter to 
the Rev. William Lemon, Rector of Geytonthorpe, which was 
occasioned by a definition of the word Methodists, in his 
Etymological Dictionary, just then published ; which, Mr. 
C. gave numerous reasons why he should change in his second 
edition : but the book never sold, and the second edition is yet 
to come. The author took up the absurd opinion that all, or 
nearly all, the words in the English language, were derived 



178 



HE SETS OUT FOR CORNWALL. 



from the Greek ! But, terms of arts and sciences excepted, he 
might as well have maintained that they came from the 
T(imul. This Letter contains a full expose of the doctrines 
of the Methodists ; and, for the time, was not contemptibly- 
written. 

Saturday, Aug. 7, he received a letter from the Leeds Con- 
ference, informing him that he was appointed for St. Austell 
Circuit, East Cornwall; a journey of nearly four hundred 
miles from Loddon, where he then was : and, with the ap- 
pointment, a guinea was sent him to defray his expenses on 
the way ! With this famous provision, he set off on horseback 
on Wednesday morning, Aug. 11 ; reached Bury St. Edmunds 
that night; the next day, Chelmsford ; the third day London, 
where he staid till the 16th : on the 18th he reached his old Cir- 
cuit, Bradford ; spent usefully several days in Trowbridge, 
Bradford, Shepton-Mallet, Alhampton, and West-Pennard ; 
and at last reached St. Austell, on Saturday, 28th. Tliis was 
a fatiguing journey : he generally rode between forty and 
fifty miles per diem ; and as he had but a guinea and a half- 
crown when he set out, he seldom had more than one slight 
meal in the day, as the keep of his horse required nearly all 
his cash. A penny loaf served for breakfast and dinner : as 
to supper he was always obliged to take something at the 
places where he rested for the night ; but that was, generally, 
a very light repast. These were times in which no man from 
secular motives, could take up the work of a travelling preacher ; 
and times in which no man, who had not the life of God in 
his soul, and an ardent desire for the salvation of men, and a 
clear testimony of his own call -to the work, could possibly 
continue in it. 

In this Circuit, (Norwich,) during about eleven months, he 
preached 450 sermons, besides exhortations innumerable. 



St. AUSTELL CIRCUIT, 1784—5. 

On Saturday, Aug. 28, he reached this town, and found that 
he was appointed to labour with Mr. Francis Wrigley, (this 
was the second time,) and Mr. William Church. The Cir- 
cuit took in the eastern part of the county of Cornwall, from 
the north to the south sea, and included the following places : 
St. Austell, Mevagizzey. Tywardreath, Lostwithiel, Port-Isaac, 
Camelford, Trenarren.Trewint, Sticker, St. Stephens, St. Ewe. 
Polglaze, Tregony, Polperro. Liskearcf, Fursnuth. Penfurder, 
Pelynt, Meadows, Ruthernbridge, Trelill, Amble. Grampound, 
Tresmear, St. Tiddy. BodminT Gunwen, Bokiddick, Fowey, 
St. Teatb, Trewalder, Delabole Quarry, Landreath, Broad- 
oak, Trenarrand, Bocaddon, Tintageh Michaelstow, St. Min- 



THE SPREAD OF METHODISM. 



179 



ver, and Padstow : forty places j besides occasional visits to 
several others, where preaching was not as yet established. — 
This Circuit was exceedingly severe ; the riding constant ; 
the roads in general bad ; and the accommodations, in most 
places, very indifferent. But the prospect was widely different 
from that of his last Circuit. Here there was a general spirit 
of hearing ; and an almost universal revival of the work of 
God. Thousands nocked to the preaching : the chapels would 
not contain the crowds that came ; and almost every week in 
the year, he was obliged to preach in the open air, in times 
when the rain was descending from heaven, and when the 
snow lay deep upon the earth. But the prosperity of Me- 
thodism made every thing pleasant ; for the toil in almost 
every place was compensated by a blessed ingathering of 
sinners to Christ, and a general renewing of the face of the 
country. 

In St. Austell, the heavenly flame broke out in an extraor- 
dinary manner; and great numbers were there gathered into the 
heavenly fold. Among those whom Mr. Clarke joined to the 
Methodists' Society, was Samuel Drew, then terminating his 
apprenticeship to a shoemaker ; and since become one of the 
first metaphysicians in the empire, as his works on the Imma- 
teriality and Immortality of the Soul of man, the Identity 
and Resurrection of the Human Body, and the Being and. 
Attributes of God, sufficiently testify. A man of primitive 
simplicity of manners, amiableness of disposition, piety to- 
wards God, and benevolence to men, seldom to be equalled ; 
and for reach of thought, keenness of discrimination, purity of 
language, and manly eloquence, not to be surpassed in any of 
the common walks of life. He shortly became a local preacher 
among the Methodists : and, in this office he continues to the 
present day. In short, his circumstances considered, with the 
mode of his education, he is one of those prodigies of nature 
and grace which God rarely exhibits : but which serve to 
keep up the connecting link between those who are confined 
to nouses of clay, whose foundations are in the dust, and 
beings of a superior order in those regions where infirmity 
cannot enter, and where the sunshine of- knowledge neither 

suffers diminution nor eclipse. George Michal, inventor of 

the patent window frame ; Joseph Avard, now a magistrate in 
Prince Edward's Island; and several others, who have smce 
become distinguished either in literature or mechanics ; were 
joined by Mr. Clarke, to the Methodists' Society, in St. Aus- 
tell, in the course of that year. 

On Saturday, Sept. 11, Mr. C. went to a place called Trego, 

to Farmer P 's, where there had been preaching for some 

time, and a small society formed, and where he was to preach 
that night and the next morning. He had gone through a 
tedious journey, and by unknown wavs, in order to get to this 



180 



A ROUGH RECEPTION. 



place ; and was much fatigued on his arrival. Only the good 
woman was within, the rest being at harvest. She asked him 
if he had dined : he said, no. She then brought him the re- 
mains of a cold apple pie, of the rudest confectio i ; the apples 
were not peeled, even the snuffs and stalks were on them, and 
the crust was such, that, though the apples in baking shrunk 
much, yet the crust disdained to follow them, and stood over 
the dish like a well-built arch, almost impenetrable to knife or 
teeth. He sat down to this homely fare, thanked God, and 
took courage. After a little, the good woman brought him 
some cream, saying, " I'll give you a little cream to the pie ; 
but I cannot afford it to my own family." This appeared odd 
to him. He had nothing beside this pie, except a drink oi 
water. He went and cleaned his horse, and waited till the 
farmer came in from the field ; between whom, in substance, 
passed the following dialogue : — Who art thou ? I am a Me- 
thodist preacher : my name is Adam Clarke. And what is thee 
comin here for? To preach to yourself, your family, and your 
neighbours. Who sent thee here ? I received a plan from Mr. 
Wrigley, and your place stands for this night and to-morrow 
morning. / expect other friends to-morrow, and thou shall 
not stay here. Why, — will you not have the preaching ? 
No, I will have none of thy preaching, nor any of thy brethren. 
But will it not be wrong to deprive your family and neigh- 
bours of what may be profitable to them, though you may not 
desire it ? Thee shalt not stay here : I icill have no more Me- 
thodist preaching. Well, I will inform Mr. Wrigley of it ; 
and I dare say he will not send any more, if you desire it not : 
but as I am a stranger in the country, and know not my way, 
and it is. now towards evening, I hope you will give me a 
night's lodging, and I will, please God, set off to-morrow 
morning. / tell thee, thee shalt not stay here. What, would 
you turn a stranger out into a strange country of which he 
Jmows nothing, and so late in the evening too? Were was 
thee last night ? I was at Polperro. Then go there. It is out 
of my reach: besides, I have to preach at Bodmin to-morrow 
evening. Then go to Bodmin. I have never yet been there ; 
am not expected there to-night ; and know no person in the 
place : — pray give me the shelter of your roof for the night. 
/ tell thee, thee shalt not stay here. Are you really in earnest? 
/ am. Well then, if I must go, can you direct me the way to 
Ruthernbridge ; I was there on Thursday, and am sure I shall 
be welcome again. Thee must inquire the road to Bodmin* 
How far is Ruthernbridge hence T About fifteen or sixteen 
miles ; so thee hadst best be getting off'. I will set off imme- 
diately. Mr. C. then went and put on his boots, repacked his 
shoes, &c, in his saddle-bags, and went to the stable and sad- 
dled his horse ; the farmer standing by and looking on, but 
lending no assistance. He then mounted his horse, and spoke 



A DANGEROUS ACCIDENT. 



181 



to this effect : — " Now, Sir, I am a stranger, and you refused 
me the common rites of hospitality : I am a messenger of the 
Lord Jesus, coming to you, your family, and your neighbours, 
with the glad tidings of salvation by Jesus Christ ; and you 
have refused to receive me : for this you must account at the 
bar of God. In the mean time I must act as my Lord has 
commanded me; and wipe off against you even the dust of 
your floor that cleaves to the soles of my feet." »So saying, he 
took his right foot out of the stirrup, and with his hand wiped 
off the dust from his sole : be did the like to his left foot, and 
rode slowly off saying, lt Remember, a messenger of peace 
came to your house with the gospel of Jesus ; and you have 
rejected both him and his message I" He went on his way; 
and the farmer turned into his house. What was the conse- 
quence ? A Methodist preacher w T as never afterwards within 
his house, or before his door. The little society that was there, 
went to other places ; ruin came on him, and his family be- 
came corrupt, and were at last, finally scattered ! and he died 
not long after. 

After a tedious ride Mr. Clarke got to Mr. Varcoe's, at Ru- 
thernbridge, where he was affectionately received ; — preached 
out of doors the next morning ; — and then rode to Bodmin, 
and preached to a vast congregation out of doors in the even- 
ing, in the butter-market. When he began, the bells struck 
out, and entirely drowned his voice, so that his giving out the 
hymn could not be heard. When he was about half through 
his first prayer, the bells were stopped, nor was there the least 
disturbance or noise till he had finished the whole of his work. 
He then rode back to Ruthernbridge, and spent a comfortable 
evening with that affectionate family. The Reader is left to 
his own reflections concerning the man who turned away the 
message of salvation from his door; particulars might be 
given of the evils that fell upon that family ; but enough has 
been said. 

On Dec. 17, of this year, (1784,) Mr. C. met with an acci- 
dent that had nearly proved fatal to him. When he came out 
first to preach he had no horse, — a gentleman of Bradford 
knowing this, said, he would give the young preacher a horse, 
— and among other good qualities for which he extolled him, 
said he was an excellent chaise horse. Mr. Wesley was by, 
and said, " One of my horses troubles us very much, for he 
often takes it into his head that he will not draw. Had I not 
better take your horse, Mr. R., and let brother Clarke have this 
one ? He may be a good hack though a bad chaise-horse. 
The change was made, and he got Mr. W.'s horse, of which 
he was not a little proud, because it had been the property of 
Mr. W. ; but this horse was the most dangerous creature he 
ever mounted, and he scarcelv ever rode him a journey often 
10 



182 



A DANGEROUS ACCIDENT. 



miles, in which he did not fall at least once : and by this his 
life was often brought into danger. 

His friends often endeavoured to persuade him to dispose of 
this dangerous beast, but his affection for its quondam owner, 
caused him to turn a deaf ear to every entreaty and remon- 
strance ; as he was afraid if he parted with the beast he might 
fall into hands that would not use him well. This evening 
had nearly terminated the business : it was a hard frost, and 
coming over the down above Ruthernbridge, the horse fell, 
according to custom, and pitched Mr. C. djrectly on his head. 
He lay some time senseless, but how long he could not tell. 
At length, having come to himself a little, he felt as if in the 
agonies of death ; and earnestly recommended his soul td his 
Redeemer : however, he so far recovered, that with extreme 
difficulty he reached the house. As a congregation attended, 
the good people, not knowing how much injury he had sus- 
tained, entreated him to preach, — he could not draw a full 
breath, and was scarcely able to stand : however, he endea- 
voured to recommend to them the salvation of God. His 
pain was so great that he got no rest all night : the next day 
a person was sent with him to stay him up on his horse, that 
he might get to Port Isaac, where he-could obtain some medi- 
cal help. He suffered much on this journey, as every step the 
horse took seemed like a dart run through his body. He got 
at last to Port Isaac, Dr. Twentyman was sent for, and bled 
him. It appeared that some of the vertebrae of the spine had 
been materially injured. He was desired to remain in the 
house for some days. — this he could not consent to do, as 
there were four places in which he was expected to preach 
the following day. This he did at the most obvious risk of 
his life ; but from this hurt he did not wholly recover for more 
than three years ! After this narrow escape he was persuaded 
to part with his horse, which he changed with a farmer, who 
had a high reverence for Mr. W. and promised to use the horse 
mercifully. 

On Saturday, Jan. 1, 1785, he thus Writes, " A God of in- 
finite love has brought me to the beginning of another year ! 
Though I have often provoked Thee, and been unfaithful to 
Thy grace, yet I am a monument of Thy sparing and for- 
bearing mercy. The blessings I have received from Thee in 
the year that is past, may well astonish me ! Thou hast pros- 
pered my labour, and many souls have been awakened and 
blessed under my ministry. I have been exposed to the most 
imminent deaths, and yet rescued from the pit of corruption. 
I have sustained the most grievous temptations, to well cir- 
cumstanced sins, and yet. by the grace of God, I stand ! I 
have gone through labours almost above human strength, and 
vet am supported ! What a miracle of power and mercy ! — 



A SINGULAR PHENOMENON. 



183 



O, what shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits towards 
me ! May I live the ensuing year, more to Thy glory than 
ever, for Christ's sake, amen I" 

On the 6th of this month, he saw a wonderful phenomenon 
while riding between St. Austell and Meadows. A body of 
fire, something like a comet, with the head foremost, and the 
tail terminating in a point, rose out of the west, and directing 
its course eastward, traversed nearly a quadrant of the heavens, 
leaving a fiery highway after it, through the whole of its course, 
till it had entirely expended itself. Its duration was nearly a 
minute; but after the fire had disappeared, the oblique* or 
wavy path which it had made, was visible for at least fif teen 
minutes. It seemed as if it had left a deeply indented path in 
the sky. His reflections on this phenomenon are pleasing, 
though they partake much of the state of his mind, which was 
considerably depressed at that time: on this account they need 
not be inserted. 

On a review of the events of this year, as they respect Mr. 
C«, we find them presenting to us one uninterrupted scene ol 
prosperity. The spirit of hearing, as has already been remarked, 
was almost universal, — the congregations very large, and num- 
bers were awakened, converted, and joined to the Lord. The 
societies were not only much increased, but they were built 
up on their most holy faith ; and the stream of pure religion 
deepened as it spread. The vicious and profligate became 
ashamed of their own conduct ; and those who did not yieid 
to the influences of the grace of God, w T ere constrained to as- 
sume a decent exterior. The spiritual prosperity would have 
been unrivalled had it not been for some antinomian Calvinists, 
who envious at the prosperity of the Methodists, insinuated 
themselves into some of the societies, and spread their poiscn 
among the people. However, the bit and curb of God weie 
put in their jaws, and although they disturbed and in a mea- 
sure hindered the work, they were not permitted to prevail. — 
They drew some of the less fixed of the society in St. Austell 
with them, and formed a party, but they converted no sinners 
to God. 

Mr. C.'s labours were here continual, and almost oppressive : 
besides the preaching out of doors in all weathers, through 
spring, summer, autumn, and winter, he often, preached twice, 
even thrice, on week-days; and three sabbaths out of four, he 
preached regularly four times each day in different places ; 
being obliged, to supply them, to ride many miles. This 
as well as the injury he received by the fall already mentioned, 
greatly damaged his constitution. He lost his appetite, was 
prostrated in his strength^ lost his flesh, and often bled so co- 
piously at the nose, even in the pulpit, that his friends feared, 
and not without reason, for his life. Besides innumerable 



184 



MR. RICHARD MABYN. 



public exnortations, he preached in about eleven months, 568 
sermons, and rode in his work many hundreds of miles. He in- 
deed gave up his own life as lost, and felt himself continually 
on the verge of eternity. He endeavored to walk with God, 
kept up a severe watch on his heart and conduct, and gave no 
quarter to any thing in himself, that did not bear the stamp of 
holiness. His popularity was great, but he was not lifted up 
by it ; he felt too much of weakness, ignorance, and imperfec- 
tion in himself, to allow the foot of pride to come against him ; 
therefore his popularity promoted his usefulness, and of it he 
made no other advantage. 

As his labours were great, and his time, almost wholly em- 
ployed, he could make little progress in mental cultivation : 
Vet even this was not wholly neglected. He read some trea- 
tises on different parts of Chemistry, and having borrowed the 
use of a friend's laboratory ', he went through the process of 
refining silver, that he might be the better able to compre 
bend the meaning of those texts of scripture where this oper- 
ation is referred to. He read also several Alchemistic authors, 
the perusal of which was recommended to him by a friend 
who was much devoted to such studies ; and he also went 
through several of the initiatory operations recommended by 
professed adepts in that science. This study was the means 
of greatly enlarging his views in the operations of nature, as 
he saw many wonders performed by chemical agency. It may 
surprise the Reader that he took the pains to read over Basil 
Valentine, Geo. Ripley, Philalethes, Nich. Flammel, Arte- 
phius, Geber, Paracelsus, the Hermetical Triumph, all the 
writers in Ashmole's Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum, &c. 
&c. ; not with the hope of rinding the Philosopher's stone, 
but rerum cognoscere causas ; and to see nature in her own 
laboratory. This study served to divert his mind from that 
intensity of thought on other matters, which before was prey- 
ing upon itself. 

In this circuit he met with that almost rarest gift of heaven, 
a true friend; a friend that, loveth at all times — the Amicus 
certus, qui in re incerta cernitur : this was Mr. Richard Ma- 
byn, of Camelford, a man who took him to his bosom, watched 
over him with the solicitude of the most affectionate fatrler, 
bore with his weakness, instructed his ignorance, and helped 
him forward in his Christian course, by his prayers. His 
house was his only home on earth ; and for him and his most 
affectionate wife he felt a filial respect and tenderness. This 
patriarchal man is still alive, and a pillar in the Church of 
God in that place : and the friendship between him and Mr. 
C has never known diminution or decay, though it has now 
lasted upwards of thirty-five years. He was one of those 
friends who was as dear as a brother; and on whose mind, 
the changes and chances of time made no impression in re 



PLYMOUTH DOCK CIRCUIT. 



185 



spect to the object of his friendship. May the sun of his 
spiritual prosperity never be clouded, but shine brighter and 
broader till its setting ! Local distance lias long separated 
them; though Mr. C. has contrived occasionally to pay him a 
visit in Camelford. However, they cannot be long separated : 
Mr. M. in the course of nature must soon pass Jordan ; and 
his friend Mr. C. cannot be long behind him, — they will 
shortly be joined 

" In those Elysian seats 

Where Jonathan his David meets."* 

While in this county he felt a desire to examine its anti= 
quities, but time would not permit him. Afterwards, on his 
visits to see Mr. Mabyn, he examined the logging-stones and 
rock basins on Raw-tor, of which he wrote a new theory ;| 
and took down the inscription from what is called Arthur ] s 
tomb-stone, on th£ place where the famous and decisive battle 
was fought between Arthur and his son-in-law Mordred; in 
which, though the latter was slain, and his army totally routed, 
yet the former received his death's wound, and shortly after 
died at Glastonbury. On this stone Mr. C. wrote a Disser 
ration, f stating it to be the tomb-stone of one of Arthur's sons, 

PLYMOUTH DOCK CIRCUIT, 1785—6. 

At the Conference, which was held in London this year, 
strong application was made to Mr. Wesley to appoint Mr. C, 
a second year to the St. Austell circuit, and with this applica- 
tion he at first complied : but the people of Plymouth Dock, 
who had suffered by a rent made in the society by the secession 
of Mr. W. Moore, who had carried with him more than fifty 
of the society, requested Mr. W., most earnestly, to appoint 
Mr. C. for them, as one that was most likely to counteract the 
influence of the disaffected party. To them Mr. W. yielded, 
and Mr. C. receiving this appointment, entered on this new 
circuit, Aug. 27, 1785. 

This circuit included the following places, partly in Devon, 
partly in Cornwall, Plymouth, Dock, Torpoint, Stonehouse, 
Plympton, Tavistock, Lauriceston, Trelabe, Tregar, Ex, Bur- 
rowcot, Dixbeer, Collory, Altarnun, Beeralston, Hull, Pitt, and 
Butternelle. Several of these were new places, taken in the 
^course of that year. The preachers were John Mason, Adam 
Clarke, and John King : with Messrs. Mason and King he 
lived and laboured in the utmost harmony, and Methodism 

* Mr. Mabyn died in the year 1820, retaining and manifesting his 
friendship for Dr. Clarke to the last moment of his life. 

t These Treatises will hereafter be published among Dr, Clarke's 
Miscellaneous Works, 
16* 



1S6 



INCREASE OF PHILOSOPHICAL KNOWLEDGE. 



prospered greatly ; as in the course of that year they doubled 
the society. Of the fifty that went off with Mr. Moore in 
Dock, several returned, and in place of those who continued in 
the secession, more than one hundred were added to that so- 
ciety in the course of the year. The congregations became 
immense, and from the Dock-yard, and the ships in the Ha- 
moaze, multitudes flocked to the preaching, and many were 
brought to God. Cleland Kirkpatrick, (who had his arm 
shot off in an engagement with the famous Paid Jones, and 
was then cook of the Cambridge man-of-war,) joined the so- 
ciety at that time, and became afterwards a travelling preacher : 
in which office he still continues. 

The days in which Mr. Clarke's labours were not required 
in Plymouth or Dock, he made excursions into different parts 
of Cornwall, preached in new places, and formed several new 
societies. He preached also in Dock, at five o'clock in the 
morning throughout the year : and generally went about to 
the different houses in the dark winter mornings, with his lan- 
thorn, to awake those whom he thought should attend the 
preaching ! 

It was, while he was on this circuit, as has been already an- 
ticipated, that the vow relative to the total abandonment of 
classical learning, was broken : and here, having more leisure 
than he had previously, he bent his mind to study. In this he 
was greatly assisted by James Hore, Esq. of the R. N.; after- 
wards purser of the Venerable, in which Admiral Duncan 
gained the victory over the Dutch fleet, under De Winter; 
and who died in the same service, in the Egyptian expedition. 
This gentleman lent him books, and among the rest. Cham- 
bers' Encyclopcedia, 2 vols. fol. In this work, which was a 
library of itself, he spent almost every spare hour : here his 
philosophical taste was gratified, and "his knowledge greatly 
increased. It is almost impossible to conceive how much he 
profited by this work; he made nearly every subject there dis- 
cussed, his own; and laid in a considerable stock of useful 
knowledge, which he laid under constant contribution to his 
ministerial labours. He has often said, c; I owe more to Mr. 
Hore, than to most men, for the loan of this work. The gift 
of a thousand indiscriminate volumes, would not have equal- 
led the utility of this loan/' It is with pleasure that he has 
recorded, " The eldest daughter of this most worthy man, a 
young lady of great excellence, is now the wife of the Rev. 
W. Henshaw, one of the most respectable as well as useful^ 
of the present body of itinerant Methodist preachers." Of 
the Enevclopeedia of Mr. Chambers, he could never speak 
without the highest commendation, as being far before every 
other work of the kind: and in its original form, allowing for 
late discoveries and improvements, far surpassing the vastly 
voluminous French Encyclopedie, thirty-five vols, fol., pro- 



SINGERS, VEXATIOUS AND USELESS IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 187 

fessedly formed after its model, and all others in our own 
country, which indeed has been the land of Encyclopedias, 
Cyclopaedias, Dictionaries of Arts and Sciences, &c. And, 
with the above allowances, beyond comparison preferable to 
those editions of the same work, which have been made since 
his time, by different hands, with all their professed improve- 
ments by the immense additions of encumbering, heteroge- 
neous and discordant materials. When he was able to pur- 
chase a book of any magnitude, he bought this ; and has ever 
preserved a copy of it in his library, in grateful remembrance 
of the great service which he formerly derived from it. 

This work, castigated to the present improved state of sci- 
ence, and enlarged about one third or one half, so that it might 
make three or four volumes folio, without changing Mr. Cham- 
bers' plan, «vould comprehend all that is essentially necessary 
for a work of this kind ; and be highly acceptable to the pub- 
lic, instead of those vast voluminous works which are beyond 
the purchase of those persons who need them most, and would 
profit most by them; and in which, disjointed and shapeless 
lumber is of more frequent occurrence than valuable furniture, 
or useful implements. 

To help him in his Hebrew studies, he had purchased 
LeigWs Critica Sacra : a work of great study and research, 
and invaluable to a biblical student. It not only gives the 
literal sense of every Greek and Hebrew word in the Old and 
New Testaments, but enriches almost every definition with 
philological and theological notes drawn from the best gram- 
mariansand critics. To this work, the best edition of which 
is that o"f Lond. 1662, with a Supplement to both parts, most 
succeeding lexicographers have been greatly indebted. He 
was also laid under great obligations to a lady to whom he 
was personally unknown, Miss Kennicott, of Dock, who hear- 
ing of his thirst for knowledge, lent him her brother's {Dr. 
Kennicott) edition of the Hebrew Bible, two vols. fol. with 
various readings collected from nearly 700 MSS., and early 
printed editions. This work, which he carefully studied, gave 
tiim the first knowledge of Biblical Criticism. The work 
had been but lately published ; and had he not seen it in this 
providential way, several years must have elapsed before it 
could have fallen under his notice. 

This year the society at Dock built a new chapel at Wind- 
mill Hill, much more commodious than that w r hich they had 
■opposite the Gun- Wharf Gate ; but so much had the congre- 
gations increased that this new erection was soon found to be 
too small. When the seats of this chapel were in course of 
being let, he noticed for the first time, what he had occasion 
to notice w r ith pain often after : — How difficult it is to satisfy 
a choir of singers ; of how little use they are in general, and 
iiow dangerous they are at all times to the peace of the Church 



1S8 SINGERS, VEXATIOUS AND USELESS IN PUBLIC WORSHIP. 

of Christ. There was here a choir , and there were some 
among them who understood music as w r ell as most in the 
nation ; and some, who taken individually, were both sensi- 
ble and pious. These, in their collective capacity, wished to 
have a particular seat, w r ith which the trustees could not con- 
veniently accommodate them, because of their engagements 
to other persons. When the signers found they could not 
have the places they wished, they came to a private resolution 
not to sing in the chapel. Of this resolution, the preachers 
knew nothing. It was Mr. C.'s turn to preach in the chapel 
at ihe Gun- Wharf, the next Sabbath morning at seven ; and 
there they intended to give the first exhibition of their dumb- 
show. He gave out. as usual, the page and measure of the 
hymn. All was silent. He looked to see if the singers w r ere 
iii their place ; and behold, the choir was full ; evmn unusually 
so. He, thinking that they could not find the page, or did not 
know the measure, gave out both again ; and then looked them 
all full in the face; w^hich they returned w r ith great steadiness 
of countenance ! He then raised the tune himself, and the 
congregation continued the singing. Not knowing what the 
matter was, he gave out the next hymn as he had given out the 
former, again and again, — still they were silent. He then 
raised the tune, and the congregation sang as before. After 
wards he learned, that as the trustees would not indulge them 
w r ith the places they w r ished, they were determined to avenge 
their quarrel on Almighty God : for He should have no praise 
from them, since they could not have the seats they wished ! 
The impiety of this conduct appeared to him in a most hideous 
point of view : for, if the singing be designed to set forth the 
praises of the Lord, the refusing to do this, because they could 
not have their own wills in sitting in a particular place, though 
they were offered, free of expense, one of the best situations 
in the chapel, was a broad insult on God Almighty. They 
continued this ungodly farce, hoping to reduce the trustees, 
preachers, and society, to the necessity of capitulating at dis 
cretion ; but the besieged, by appointing a man to be alwavs 
present to raise the tunes, cut oft the whole choir at a stroke. 
From this time, the liveliness and piety of the singing were 
considerably improved: for now, the congregation, instead of 
listening to the warbling of the choir, all joined in the sing- 
ing; and God had hearty praise from every mouth. Mr. C. 
has often witnessed similar disaffection in other places, by 
means of the singers : and has frequently been heard to say : 
" Though I never had a personal quarrel with the singers, in 
any place, yet, I have never known one case where there was 
a choir of singers, that they did not make disturbance in the 
societies. And it would be much better, in every case, and in 
every respect, to employ a precentor, or a person to raise the 
tunes, and then the congregation would learn to sing — the pur- 



MR. MASON. 



180 



pose of singing would be accomplished, — every mouth Would 
confess to God, — and a horrible evil would be prevented, — 
the bringing together into the house of God, and making them 
the almost, only instruments of celebrating his praises, such a 
company of gay, airy, giddy, and ungodly men and women, as 
are generally grouped in such choirs — for voice and shift must 
be had, let decency of behaviour and morality be where they 
will. Every thing must be sacrificed to a good voice, in order 
to make the choir complete and respectable." Many scandals 
have been brought into the church of God by choirs and their 
accompaniments. Why do not the Methodist preachers lay 
this to heart ? 

At the conduct of the singers in Plymouth Dock, Mr. C. 
was much grieved, because there were among them men of 
sound sense, amiable manners, and true piety : and so thev 
continued in their individual capacity ; but when once merged 
in the choir, they felt only for its honour, and became like to 
other men! Disturbances of this kind which he has witnessed 
in all the large societies, have led him often seriously to ques- 
tion, whether public singing made any essential part in the 
worship of God! most of those who are employed in it being 
the least spiritual part of the church of Christ; generally 
proud, self-willed, obstinate, and untractable : besides, they 
uniformly, hinder congregational singing, the congregation 
leaving this work to them; and they desiring it so to be 
left. 

In the way of incident, there was nothing remarkable in the 
course of this year. Methodism prospered greatly, and he was 
happy in the friendship of several excellent people in different 
parts of the circuit, but especially in Dock. Mr. Mason, whom 
he considered as an apostolic father, was very useful to him : 
his upright, orderly, and regular conduct, furnished him with 
lessons of great importance : and from him he learned how to 
demean and behave himself in civil and religious society. Of 
him he spoke with high commendation in a small work, en- 
titled, .4 Letter to a Preacher, which has gone through four 
editions to the present year 1819; and when this excellent 
man died, Mr. C. was desired, by the Conference held in Lon- 
don in 1810, to draw up his character, which he did in the fol- 
lowing terms : — 

"Mr. Mason made it the study of his life to maintain his 
character as a preacher, a Christian, and a man; the latter 
word taken in its noblest sense : and he did this by cultivating 
iiis mind in every branch of useful knowledge within his reach ; 
and his profiting was great. In the history of the world,, and 
the history of the church, he was very extensively read. With 
anatomy and medicinehe was well acquainted ; and his know- 
ledge of natural history, particularly of botany, was very ex- 



190 



ON QUACK MEDICINES. 



tensive. In the latter science he was inferior to few in the 
British empire. His botanical collections, would do credit to 
the first museum In Europe; and especially his collections of 
English plants, all gathered, preserved, classified, and descri- 
bed by his own hand. But this was his least praise : he laid 
all his attainments in the natural sciences, under contribution 
to his theological studies : nor could it ever be said that he 
neglected his duty as a Christian minister, to cultivate his 
mind in philosophical pursuits. 

"He was a Christian man; and in his life and spirit, 
adorned the doctrine of God his Saviour. The decency,, pro- 
priety, and dignity of his conduct were, through the whole of 
his life, truly exemplary. And his piety towards God, and his 
benevolence towards man, were as deep as they were sincere. 
— I am constrained to add, — 

He was a Man ; take him for all in all. 
I shall not look upon his like again.' 

He died, Friday, April 27, 1810, aged seventy-eight years, and 
lies buried at West Meon, in Hampshire; his general resi- 
dence some years before his death." 

Mr. Mason might have lived at least ten years longer, foi 
his constitution was good, and his habits perfectly regular, had 
he not unfortunately, taken to a milk diet for several of his 
latter years. This did not afford sufficient nutriment to his 
body. He was strong boned and six-feet high, and the nou- 
rishment derived from this most inadequate diet, was not suf- 
ficient to clothe his bones with healthy and vigorous muscles. 
The consequence was, he began to stoop, and his feet, &c. 
became ricketty; and he sunk rather through want of due 
nourishment, than by weight of years, or unavoidable bodily 
infirmities. What became of his collections of fossils, m ine- 
rals, and plants, I do not know : I believe, they were all scat- 
tered and lost, except a Hortus Siccus, in forty-three vols. 8vo., 
which he presented to his friend Mr. Clarke, several years be- 
fore his death. 

From him, while they travelled together at Plymouth, Mr 
Clarke had the following anecdote ; which, as the parties are 
now long dead, can on that account, do no harm to be related, 
and should be most extensively published. 

A. B. and his wife C. B., were members of the Methodists' 
Society, in Portsmouth Common : and in decent and respect- 
able circumstances. C. B. was frequently troubled with indi- 
gestion, and consequent flatidencies. A female neighbour 
said to C. B. : " There is a very fine bottle which has done me 
much good, and I was just as you are ; and I am sure it would 
do you much good also. Do trv but one bottle of it." — " What 
do you call it ?"— * Godfrey's Cordial"—" Well, I will try it, 



ON O.UACK MEDICINES. 



191 



in God's name, for I am sadly troubled, and would give any- 
thing for a cure, or even for ease." A bottle of this fine spirit- 
uous saccharine opiate, was bought and taken secundum artem; 
and it acted as an elegant dram ! u O, dear, this is a very 
fine thing ; it has done me good already ; I shall never be with- 
out this in the house." A little disorder in the stomach called 
the bottle again into request : it acted as before, and got addi- 
tional praises. By and bye, the husband himself got poorly 
with a pain in his stomach and bowels ; the wife said, " Do, 
A., take a little of my bottle, it will do you much good." He 
took it ; but then, as he was a man, it must be a stronger dose. 
" Well. C, this is a very fine thing, it has eased me much." — 
Thougn the wife was not cured, yet she was very much reliev- 
ed ! So bottle after bottle was purchased, and taken in pretty 
quick succession. The husband found it necessary also to have 
frequent recourse to the same ; and now they could both 
bear a double dose; by and bye it was trebled and quad- 
rupled; for, former doses did not give relief as usual: but 
the increased dose did. — No customers to the quack medi- 
cine venders were equal to A. B. and his wife. — They had 
it at last by the dozen, if not by the gross ! Soon, scores 
of pounds were expended on this carminative opiate, till 
at last they had expended on it their whole substance. Even 
their furniture went by degrees, till at last they were reduced 
to absolute want, and were obliged to take refuge in the Poor- 
house. Here they were visited by some pious people of the 
Society — saw their error, deplored it, and sought God for par- 
don. A good report was brought, of this miserable couple to 
the Society : it was stated that, they saw their folly, and were 
truly penitent ; and it was a pity to permit a couple, who in all 
human probability, had much of life before them, to linger it 
out uselessly in a wretched workhouse. A collection was pro- 
posed for their relief, among the principal friends ; it was pro- 
ductive, for a considerable sum was raised. They were brought 
out, placed in a decent little dwelling, and a proper assortment 
of goods purchased with the subscription already mentioned, 
and they were set up in a respectable little shop. Many of 
the friends bound themselves to give A. B. and his wife their 
custom : — they did so, and the capital was soon doubled, and 
they went on in religious and secular things very prosperously. 
Unfortunately, the wife thought her indigestion and flatulen- 
cies had returned, were returning, or would soon return ; and 
she once more thought of Godfrey* s Cordial, with desire and 
terror. " I should have a bottle in the house : surely I have 
been so warned that I am not likely to make a bad use of it 
again." — " C, I am afraid of it," said the husband. " My dear," 
said she, " we have now experience, and I hope we may both 
take what will do us good and that only."— Not to be tedious, 
another bottle was bought, and another, and a dozen, and a 



192 



PREPARES TO GO TO JERSEY. 



gross; — and in this they once more drunk out all their property, 
and terminated their lives in Portsmouth Common Workhouse ! 

The Reader may be astonished at this infatuation: but he 
may rest assured that the ease is not uncommon : Daffy's 
Elixir, Godfrey's Cordial, and Solomon' 's Balm of Gilead, 
have in a similar manner impoverished, if not destroyed, 
thousands. On this very principle they are constructed. 
They are intended to meet the palate, and under the spe- 
cious name of medicines, they are actually used as drams; 
and in no few cases engender the use of each other. Thus, 
drops beget drams; and drams beget more drops; and they, 
drams in their turn, till health and property are both destroyed ; 
and, I may add, the soul ruined by these truly infernal com- 
posts. It would, it is true, be easy to expose them ; and it is 
difficult to refrain : — 

" Difficile est Satiram non scribere, nam quis iniqiuz 
Tarn pattens urbis, tarn fer reus, ut teneat se?" 

But who dares do this ? The iniquity is licensed by the State : 
and government makes a gain by taxation of that which is 
destroying the lives and morals of the subject! 

As the time of conference drew nigh, there was a strong 
and general desire in the Societies to have Mr. C. appointed 
a second year for the Plymouth Dock circuit : and there was 
every probability that this wish would have been met by Mr. 
"Wesley, had it not been for the following circumstance : — 

Robert Carr Brakenbury, Esq.. who had been long a mem- 
ber of the Methodists' Society, and ranked among their preach- 
ers, had gone over to the Norman Islands and had preached 
successfully, especially in the Island of Jersey, where he had 
taken a house, and set up a family establishment. At this 
Conference he applied to Mr. Wesley for a preacher to assist 
him : and Mr. C. was fixed on, as having some knowledge of 
the French language. To the regret of the circuit, and not 
entirely with his own approbation, he was appointed ; and 
was ordered to hold himself in readiness to sail in company 
with Mr. Brakenbury, as soon as the latter could settle his 
affairs at his seat at Raithby, Lincolnshire, so as to admit of 
absence for three months. 

In the meantime Mr. C. went and paid a visit to his brother, 
Surgeon Clarke, who, as we have already seen, was now set- 
tled at a place called Maghull, near Liverpool. While Mr. 
C. was on this visit, he preached different times in that neigh- 
bourhood, several were awakened, and a society was formed, 
which having gone through many vicissitudes, still exists, 
though not now in a state of great prosperity. On his return 
from Liverpool by Bristol, to go to Southampton, Avhere he 



MISS MARY COOKE. 



193 



Was to embark for the Islands ; as Mr. Brakenbury was not 
yet come, he visited his old circuit, (Bradford,) and spent 
several days at Trowbridge, where he had always a parental 
reception at the house of Mr. Knapp, where the preachers 
generally lodged. There were in the society of this place, 
several young women, who were among the most sensible 
and pious in the Methodists' connexion, particularly the Miss 
Cookes ; Mary, Elizabeth, and Frances : the two latter having 
been among the first members of the society in this town. 
With these young ladies he occasionally corresponded, es- 
pecially with the second, ever since he had been in that circuit. 
This correspondence, as it had been chiefly on matters of re- 
ligious experience, improved his mind much, and his style of 
writing. He found it of great advantage to have a well edu- 
cated and sensible correspondent; and as neither had anything 
in view but their religious and intellectual improvement, they 
wrote without reserve or embarrassment, and discussed every 
subject that tended to expand the mind or ameliorate the 
heart. About two years before this, the eldest sister, Mary, 
had joined the society; and became one of Mr. C.'s occasional 
correspondents. On this visit a more intimate acquaintance 
took place, which terminated nearly two years after in a mar- 
riage, the most suitable and honourable to both parties, and 
prosperous in its results, that ever occurred in the course of 
Divine Providence. Of her good sense, prudence, piety, and 
rare talents for domestic management and the education of a 
family, too much cannot easily be said. — " Her works praise 
her in the gates, and her reputation is in all the churches." 

Having tarried here a few days, he received a letter from 
Mr. B., appointing a day to meet him at Southampton. He 
set off and got there at the time appointed ; but Mr. B. was 
detained nearly a fortnight longer. During this delay, Mr. C. 
was kindly entertained at the house of Mr. Fay, in whose 
son's school-room he had the opportunity of preaching several 
times during his stay. 

He also visited Winchester, on the invitation of Mr. Jasper 
Winscomb,'and preached there frequently: and spent much 
of his time in the cathedral, examining the monuments, and 
making reflections on the subjects they presented. As these 
were entered under heads, in a species of Journal, I shall 
select a few. They were all written between the 11th and 
19th of October, while waiting the arrival of Mr. Brackenbury. 

17 



194 



EARTHLY GLORY. 



ON EARTHLY GLORY. 

Winchester, October 12, 1786. 

" How little is worldly grandeur worth, together with all 
the most splendid distinctions, which great and pompous 
titles, or even important offices, confer upon men ! They 
vanhh as a dissipated vapour, and the proprietors of them 
go their way ; and where are they '? or of what account ? 
Death is the common lot of all men : and the honours of the 
great, and the abjectness of the mean, are equally unseen in 
the tomb. This I saw abundantly exemplified to-day, while 
viewing the remains of several kings, Saxon and English, 
whose very names, much less their persons and importance, 
are scarcely collectible from ' Rosy damps, mouldy shrines, 
dust, and cobwebs." This exhibits a proper estimate of hu- 
man glory : and verifies the saying of the wise man, — A living 
dog is better than a dead lion. The meanest living slave is 
preferable to ajl these dead potentates. Is there any true 
greatness, but that of the soul ? And has the soul any true 
nobility unless it is begotten from above, and has the spirit and 
love of Christ to actuate it? surely none. The title of Ser- 
vant of the Lord Jesus, I prefer to the glory of these kings : 
this will stand me in stead, when the other, with all its im- 
portance, is eternally forgotten. 

" In the time of the civil wars, the tombs of several of our 
kings, who were buried in this cathedral, were broken up and 
rifled, and the bones thrown indiscriminately about. After 
the Restoration these were collected, and put in large chests, 
which are placed in different parts of the choir, and labelled as 
containing bones of our ancient kings ; but which, could not 
be discriminated." 



CHURCH NEWS. 

Winchester, October 12. 

"The following remarkable inscription I took down from 
the wall in this cathedral. 

1 The union of two brothers from Avington. 
L The Clerks' family, were, grandfather, father and son, suc- 
cessively clerks of the Privy Seal. 

'William, the grandfather, had two sons, both Thomas's; 



THE PROGRESS OF REVELATION. 



195 



their wives, both Amy's; their heirs, both Henry's; and the 
heirs of Henry's, both Thomas's; both their wives were in- 
heritrix's; and both had two sons and one daughter ; and both 
their daughters issueless. Both of Oxford ; both of the Tem- 
ple ; both officers of queen Elizabeth and our noble king James. 
Both justices of the peace together. Both agree in arms, the 
one a knight and the other a captain. 

1 Si quceras Avingtonium petus canccllum impensis. 

' Thomas Clerk, of Hyde, 1623.' 

" It is not an uncommon case that the things least worthy of 
commemoration are recorded, while those of the utmost im- 
portance, are forgotten : had those two brothers lived and died 
m the favour of God, and left a clear testimony of His pardon- 
ing and sanctifying grace behind them, I doubt, however im 
portant the matter, it would not have been thought worthy of 
being recorded. Yet the inscription above is curious, and de- 
serves to be registered on account of its singular and striking 
coincidences." 



THE PROGRESS OF REVELATION. 

Winchester, Oct. 15. 

"Why is it that God has observed so slow a climax in bring- ' 
ing the necessary knowledge of His will, and their interest to 
mankind? e. g. giving a little under the Patriarchal, an in- 
crease under the Mosaic, and the fulness of the blessing 
under the Gospel Dispensation? It is true, He could have 
given the whole in the beginning to Adam, to Noah, to Abra 
ham, or any other of the ante or post diluvian Fathers : but 
that this would not have, as effectually answered the Divine 
purpose, may be safely asserted. 

61 God, like his instrument Nature, delights in progression; 
and although the works of both, in semine, were finished from 
the beginning, nevertheless they are not brought forward, to 
actual and complete existence, but by various accretions. And 
this appears to be done that the blessings resulting from both 
may be properly valued, as in their approach, men have time 
to discover their necessities ; and when relieved after a tho 
rough consciousness of their urgency, they see and feel the 
propriety of being grateful to their kind Benefactor. 

" Were God to bestow his blessings before the want of them 
were truly felt, men could not be properly grateful for the re- 
ception of blessings, the value of which they had not known by 
previously feeling the want of them. God gives His blessings 



ON CONSCIENCE. 



that they may be duly esteemed, and He himself become the 
sole object of our dependence: and this end he secures by a 
gradual communication of his bounties as they are felt to be 
necessary. To give them all at once would defeat his own 
intention, and leave us unconscious of our dependence on, and 
debt to His grace. He, therefore, brings forward His various 
dispensations of mercy and love, as He sees men prepared to 
receive and value them ; and as the receipt of the grace of one 
dispensation makes way for another, and the soul is thereby 
rendered capable of more extended views and communications; 
so the Divine Being causes every succeeding dispensation to 
exceed that which preceded it : on this ground we find a cli- 
max of dispensations, and in each, a progressive graduated 
scale of light, life, power, and holiness. 

" We first teach our children the power of the letters — then 
to combine consonants and vowels to make syllables — then to 
unite syllables in order to make words; then to assort and 
connect the different kinds of words, in order to form lan- 
guage or regular discourse. To require them to attempt the 
latter, before they had studied the former, would be absurd. 
The first step leads to and qualifies for the second; the second 
for the third, and so on. Thus God deals with the universe; 
and thus he deals with every individual ; — every communi- 
cation from God, is a kind of seed, which, if properly cultiva- 
ted, brings forth much fruit. £ Light is sown for the righteous, 
and gladness for the upright in heart* 5 n 



ON CONSCIENCE- 

ik Conscience is defined by some, 'that judgment which the 
rational soul passes on her own actions : and is a faculty of the 
soul itself, and consequently natural to it. Others say, ■ It is 
a ray of the Divine lights Milton calls it ' Goa^s umpire:* 
and Dr. Young seems to call it \ a God in man.* To me it ap- 
pears to be no other than a faculty of the mind, capable of re- 
ceivinglight and information from the Spirit of God: and is the 
same to the soul in spiritual matters, as the eye is to the body 
in the things which concern vision. The eye is not light in 
itself, nor is it capable of discerning any object, but by the 
instrumentality of natural or artificial light. But it has or- 
gans properly adapted to the reception of the rays of light, and* 
the various images of the objects which they exhibit. When 
these are present to an eye, the structure of which is perfect, 
then there is discernment ox perception of those objects which 
are within the sphere of vision : but when the light is absent,, 
there is no perception of the figure, dimensions, situation, or 
colour of any object, howsoever entire or perfect the optic nerves 



ON CONSCIENCE. 



197 



may be. In the same manner, comparing spiritual things with 
natural, the Spirit of God enlightens that eye of the soul which 
we call conscience; it penetrates it with its effulgence, and 
speaking, as human language will permit on the subject, it has 
organs properly adapted for the reception of the Spirit's ema- 
nations, which when received into the conscience exhibit a 
real view of the situation, state, &c. of the soul as it stands in 
reference to God and eternity. Thus the Scripture says, 
The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirits: that is, it 
shines into the conscience, and reflects throughout the soul, a 
conviction, proportioned to the degree of light communicated, 
of condemnation, pardon, or acquittance, according to the end 
of its coming. 

" Conscience is sometimes said to be good, — bad, — tender, 
— seared, &c. Good, if it acquit or approve ; bad, if it con- 
demn or disapprove ; tender y if alarmed at the least approach 
of evil, and is severe in scrutinizing the various operations of 
the mind and passions, as well as the actions of the body : 
and seared, if it no longer act thus, the Spirit of God being 
so grieved that its light is no longer dispensed, and conscience 
no longer passes judgment on the actions of the man. These 
epithets can scarcely belong to it, if the common definition 
be admitted ; but on the general definition already given, these 
terms are easily understood, and are exceedingly proper : e. g. 
a good conscience, is that to which the Spirit of God has 
brought intelligence of the pardon of all the sins of the soul, 
and its reconciliation to God through the Blood of the Cove- 
nant ; and this good conscience retained, implies God's con- 
tinued approbation of such a person's conduct. A bad or 
evil conscience, is that which records a charge of guilt brought 
against the soul by the Holy Spirit, on account of the trans- 
gression of God's holy law ; the light of that Spirit shewing the 
soul the nature of sin, and its own guilty conduct. A tender 
conscience, is that which is fully irradiated by the light of the 
Holy Spirit, which enables the soul to view the good as good, 
the evil as evil, in every important respect ; and, consequently, 
leads it to abominate the latter, and cleave to the former : 
and, if at any time it act in the smallest measure opposite to 
those views, it is severe in self-reprehension, and bitter in its 
regrets. A darkened, seared, or hardened conscience, is that 
which has little or none of this divine light; the soul having 
by repeated transgressions so grieved the Spirit of God, that 
it has withdrawn its light, in consequence of which, the man 
feels no remorse, but goes on in repeated acts of transgression, 
unaffected either by threatenings or promises ; and careless 
about the destruction which awaits it : this is what the Scrip- 
ture means by the conscience being seared as with a hot iron; 
i. e. by repeated transgressions, and resisting of the Holy Ghost. 

" The word conscience itself vindicates the above explana- 
17* 



198 



ON CONSCIENCE* 



tion : — it is compounded of con, together or with, and scio, I 
know; because it knows or combines with, by or together 
with, the Spirit of God. — The Greek word cweiSriais, which is 
the only word used for conscience through the whole of the 
New Testament, has precisely the same meaning, being com- 
pounded of aw together or with, and I know: and this de- 
finition will apply to it in all its operations. 

" From the above, I think we may safely make the follow- 
ing inferences: — 1. All men have what is commonly termed 
conscience, and conscience plainly supposes the influence of 
the Divine Spirit in it, convincing of sin, righteousness, and 
judgment. 2. The Spirit of God is given to enlighten, con- 
vince, strengthen, and bring men back to God, and fit them for 
glory by purifying their hearts. 3. Therefore all men may be 
saved who attend to and coincide with the convictions and 
light communicated : for the God of the Christians does not 
give men his Spirit to enlighten, i. e. merely to leave them 
without excuse; but that it may direct, strengthen, lead them 
to himself, that they may be finally saved. 4. That this 
Spirit comes from the grace of God. is demonstrable from 
hence : ' It is a good and perfect gift,' and St. James says, 
1 all such come from the Father of lights.' Besides, it is such 
a grace as cannot be merited ; for, as it is God's Spirit, it is of 
infinite value: yet it is given: — that, then, which is not me- 
rited, and yet is given, must be of grace, not condemning or 
ineffectual grace, for no such principle comes from or resides 
in the Godhead. 

" Thus it appears that all men are partakers of the grace 
of God ; for all acknowledge that conscience is common to 
aM : and this implies, as I hope has been proved, the spirit of 
grace given by Christ Jesus, not that the world might be 
thereby condemned, but that it might be saved. Nevertheless, 
multitudes who are partakers of this heavenly gift, sin against 
it, lose it, and perish everlastingly : not through any defect in 
the gift, but through the abuse of it. 

"Hence I again infer: — 1. That God wills all men to be 
saved ; for he dispenses the true light to every man that comes 
into the world. 

"2. That he gives a sufficiency of grace to accomplish that 
end : # for who can suppose that the influences of the Holy 
Spirit are insufficient for that purpose, if not obstinately re- 
sisted % God will not force the human will — he cannot, be- 
cause he has made it will, and consequently free — freedom is 
essential to the notion of it, and to its existence. All force 
God will resist and overthrow that opposes the salvation of the 
soul : but the volitions of the soul he will not, cannot force, 
for this would imply the destruction of what himself wills 
should exist, and should exist in this mode : because the mode 
here is essential to the existence. 



ON NATURAL EVILS. 



199 



"3. That this grace is amissable: — this is sufficiently evi- 
dent in all those who perish, none of which were destitute of 
conscience, in one or other period of their lives. 

"4. And lastly: grace received, does not necessarily im- 
ply grace retained; as immense numbers resist the Holy 
Ghost in their consciences, and so grieve this good spirit as to 
cause it to depart from them ; and then they go on frowardly 
in the way of their own heart, being left to the hardness and 
darkness of their own minds. — Therefore, let him that stand- 
eth, take heed lest he fall, not only foidly but finally." 



ARE NATURAL EVILS THE EFFECT OF INEVITABLE NECESSITY ? 

Winchester, October 19, 1786. 

%c Most men complain of difficulties and disappointments in 
life ; not only the irreligious and profane, but those also who 
have a measure of the fear of God. The former, repine and 
murmur, taxing the Divine Being with his ungracious carriage 
towards them : the latter, supposing these evils to be inevita- 
ble, from the present constitution of things, endeavour to bear 
them with resignation. It cannot be denied that there are 
many evils which are the necessary effects of physical causes, 
but we cannot allow that all the evils that exist are of this 
kind. 

" If men would act according to the Divine will, few of the 
evils which are now so miserably felt would be known. By 
acting contrary to the Divine counsel, we pierce ourselves 
through with many sorrows, and often provoke God by our 
rebellion, to use that scheme of providence in opposition to 
us, which would have wrought together with His grace for 
our good, had we submitted ourselves to his directions. 

" Most of the diseases with which men are afflicted, are 
the consequence of either their indolence or intemperance, 
or the indulgence of disorderly passions : and a principal part 
of the poverty that is in the world, comes in the same way. — 
When then we see so many suffer in consequence of their 
frowardness and wickedness, we must acknowledge that there 
are fewer inevitable evils in the world than is generally ima- 
gined : and that if men would simply walk according to the 
directions of God's Holy Word, they would necessarily avoid 
all that numerous train of evils which spring from indolence, 
intemperance, and disorderly passions : and their path would 
be like that of the rising light — shining more and more unto 
the perfect day. 

" Add to this : there are some who will be continually contriv- 
ing for themselves, and will not be contented unless every thing 



200 



ON PUBLISHING LETTERS. 



be their own way, and according to what they suppose to be 
right and proper: these suffer much. There are others who 
fake God at his word, follow Jesus whithersoever he goeth, 
and leave themselves and their affairs entirely to His disposal, 
well knowing Thou canst not err; and ever saying, We will 
not choose: these suffer little. The former, if they get to glory, 
are saved as by fire, and just escape everlasting burnings. The 
latter mount up with wings as the eagle : they walk and are 
not weary : they run and are not faint. They live comforta- 
bly, die triumphantly, and have an abundant entrance admi- 
nistered to them, into eternal glory. In the former, the 
whole face of the Gospel is beclouded and disfigured : in the 
latter it is magnified, made honourable, and recommended to 
all. My soul, choose thou the latter, for it is the better part.'-* 



In the above manner Mr. C. noted down the thoughts that' 
passed through his mind on subjects which he deemed of im- 
portance, and this mode he pursued occasionally for some 
years : but his religious correspondence increasing, he was ac- 
customed to insert in his letters what otherwise would have 
been entered in his common-place book : and of these letters, 
except in a very few instances, he kept no copies. Indeed he 
had no opinion of their excellence, and they were in general 
written without any kind of study, and must have been very 
imperfect : on which account he has often been heard to say, 
"I hope none of my friends will ever publish any of the let- 
ters I have written to them, after my decease. I never wrote 
one, in my various and long correspondence, for the public eye ; 
and I am sure that not one of those letters would be fit for that 
eye unless it passed through my own revisal. 

" Many eminent men have had their literary reputation tar- 
nished by this injudicious procedure of their friends. They 
generally gather every scrap of written paper that bears evi- 
dence of the hand of the deceased, and without reflection or 
discernment give to the public what was of no profit to any 
except to the bookseller. How much have Pope and Swift 
suffered from this ! and perhaps no man more than the late 
truly apostolic man, the Rev. J. Fletcher, of Madeley. If ever 
his tree bore leaves, instead of fruit, it was in his religious cor- 
respondence ; and these leafy productions,, to the great discre- 
dit of his good sense, have been published, with a sinful cupi- 
dity, over the religious world. From this circumstance, a 
stranger to his person has said: 'Were I to judge of Mr. 
Fletcher by his letters, and some other little matters, publish- 
ed by his friends since his death ; I must pronounce him a 
well-meaning, weak enthusiast. Were I to judge of him 
by the works published by himself, I must pronounce him 



HE ARRIVES AT GUERNSEY. 



201 



the first polemical writer this or any* other age has produced : 
a man mighty in the Scriptures, and full of the unction of 
God. 5 » 

But to return ; Mr. Brackenhury shortly arriving at South- 
ampton, they took a Jersey packet, and landed in St. Aubins 5 
Bay, Oct. 26, 1786: whence they walked to Mr. B.'s house in 
St. Hellier's the same evening. 



THE NORMAN ISLES. 

These islands lie chiefly in St. Malos' Bay, and are named 
Guernsey, Jersey, Alderney, Sark, Jethou, and Herme : — they 
are the sole remains of the Gallic possessions appertaining to 
the British crown. They formerly belonged to Normandy, 
and came with that dutchy to England, at the time of the 
conquest of this country by William L The inhabitants use 
the French language, and though under the British crown, are 
governed principally by their own ancient laws. But any 
geographical or political description of islands so well known 
and so near home, would be superfluous. 

As most of the inhabitants of St. Helliers understand Eng- 
lish, Mr. C. was at no loss to begin his work ; and, after having 
preached a few times in St. Helliers, it was agreed that he 
should go to Guernsey, and that Mr. B. should remain for the 
present in Jersey. This was accordingly done, and having 
obtained a large warehouse at a place called Les Terres, a 
little out of the town, he began to preach there in English : 
for the inhabitants of St. Peters in Guernsey understand Eng- 
lish as well as those of St. Helliers in Jersey. He afterwards 
got some private houses in different parts of the town, where 
he preached both night and morning, through the principal 
part of the year. 

Being now cut off from all his religious and literary ac- 
quaintances ; and having little or no travelling, except oc- 
casionally going from island tp island, he began seriously 
to enter on the cultivation of his mind. His Greek and Latin 
had been long comparatively neglected, and his first care was 
to take up his grammars, and commence his studies de novo. 
When he had recommitted to memory the necessary paradigms 
of the Greek verbs, he then took up the first volume of Grabe's 
edition of the Septuagint, which was taken from the Codex 
Alexandrinus, deposited in the British Museum; a MS. in 
uncial characters, probably of the fourth century, and which 
formerly belonged to the patriarchal church of Alexandria, 
and was sent a present from Cyril Lucaris, patriarch of Con- 
stantinople, to Charles II,, by Sir Thomas Roe, then the 



202 



HIS OPINION OF THE SEPTUAGINT- 



British Ambassador at the. Porte. When he began thfs study, 
he found he had nearly every thing to learn ; having almost 
entirely, through long disuse, forgotten his Greek, though at 
school he had read a part of the Greek Testament, and most 
of those works of Lucian, which are usually read in schools. 

The reason why he took up the Septuagint, was chiefly to 
see how it differed from the Hebrew Text, of which he had 
gained considerable knowledge, by the Hebrew studies already 
mentioned. After a little severe fagging, he conquered the 
principal difficulties, and found this study not only pleasing 
but profitable. In many respects he observed, that the Sep- 
tuagint cast much light on the Hebrew text ; and plainly saw, 
that without the help of this ancient Version, it would have 
been nearly impossible to have gained any proper knowledge 
of the Hebrew Bible ; the Hebrew language being all lost, 
except what remains in the Pentateuch, prophetical writings, 
and some of the historical books of the Bible. For, the whole 
of the Old Testament is not in Hebrew, several parts both of 
Ezra and Daniel being in the Chaldee language, besides one 
verse in the prophet Jeremiah, x. 11. The Septuagint ver- 
sion being made in a time in which the Hebrew was verna- 
cular, about 285 years before Christ, and in which the Greek 
language was well known to the learned among the Jews : — 
the translators of this Version, had advantages which we do 
not now possess ; and which can never again be possessed by 
man ; we must have recourse to them for the meaning of a 
multitude of Hebrew words which we can have in no othei 
way. And as to the outcry against this Version, it appears to 
be made by those who do not understand the question, and are 
but slenderly acquainted with the circumstances of the case. 
The many Readings in this Version which are not now found 
in the Hebrew text, we should be cautious how we charge as 
forgeries : the translators most probably followed copies much 
more correct than those now extant, and which contained those 
Readings which we now charge on the Septuagint, as arbi- 
trary variations from the Hebrew verity. Indeed several ot 
these very Readings have been confirmed by the collations of 
Hebrew MSS., made by Dr. Kennicott, at home, and De Rossi, 
abroad. 

He continued these studies till he had read the Septuagint 
through to the end of the Psalms ; generally noting down the 
most important differences between this Version and the He- 
brew text, and entered them in the margin of a 4to. Bible in 
three vols., which was afterwards unfortunately lost. At this 
time his stock of books was very small, and having no living 
teacher, he laboured under many disadvantages. But when, 
in the course of his changing for the alternate supply of the 
societies in the Islands, he visited the Island of Jersey, he had 
much assistance from the public library in St. Helliers. This 



SCRIPTURAL CRITICISM. 



203 



contained a large collection of excellent books, which was be- 
queathed for the use of the public by the Rev. Philip Falle, one 
of the ministers of the Island, and its most correct historian. 
Here, for the first time, he had the use of a Polyglott Bible, 
that of Bishop Walton. The Prolegomena to the first vol. he 
carefully studied, and from the account contained there of the 
ancient Versions, particularly the Oriental, he soon discovered 
that some acquaintance with these, especially the Syriac and 
Chaldee, would be of great use to him in his Biblical re- 
searches. 

With the history and importance of the Septuagint version, 
he was pretty well acquainted ; and also, with those of the 
Vulgate. Dean Prideaux's Connections had given him an 
accurate view of the Chaldee version, or Tar gums of Onke- 
los on the Law, and Jonathan Ben Uzziel on the Prophets. 
To read the Samaritan Pentateuch, he had only to learn the 
Samaritan alphabet : the Hebrew text and the Samaritan be- 
ing exactly the same as to language, though the latter pre- 
serves a much fuller account of the different transactions 
recorded by Moses ; writes the words more fully, giving the 
essential vowels, which in multitudes of places, are supplied 
in the Hebrew text, only by the Masoretic points ; and be- 
sides, this Text contains many important variations in the 
chronology. The Samaritan version, which was made from 
this, is in the same character, contains the same matter, but is 
in a different dialect, not to say language. It is Chaldee in its 
basis, with the admixture of many words, supposed to be of 
Cuthic origin. 

Having met with a copy cf Walton's Introductio ad Lin- 
guas Orientates, he applied himself closely to the study of 
the Syriac, as far as it is treated of in that little manual ; and 
translated and wrote out the whole into English, which he 
afterwards enlarged much from the Schola Syriaca of Pro- 
fessor Leusden. By the time he had finished this work, he 
found himself capable of consulting any text, in the Syriac 
version; and thus the use of the Polyglott became much 
more extensive to him ; and all the time that he could spare 
from the more immediate duties of his office, he spent in the 
public library, reading and collating the original Texts in the 
Polyglott, particularly the Hebrew, Samaritan, Chaldee, Sy- 
riac, Vulgate, and Septuagint. The Arabic, Persian, and 
Ethiopic, he did not attempt— despairing to make any improve- 
ment in those languages, without a preceptor. A circumstance 
here, deserves to be noticed, which to him, appeared a particular 
interference of Divine Providence : of it the Reader will form 
his own estimate. Knowing that he could not always enjoy 
the benefit of the Polyglott in the public library, he began 
earnestly to wish to have a copy of his own : but three pounds 
per quarter, and his food, which was the whole of his income 



204 



MR. WESLEY VISITS THE NORMAN ISLES. 



as a preacher, could ill supply any sum for the purchase of 
books. Believing that it was the will of God, that he should 
cultivate his mind in Biblical knowledge, both on his own ac- 
count, and on that of the people to whom he ministered ; and 
believing that to him, the original texts were necessary for this 
purpose ; and finding that he could not hope to possess money 
sufficient to make such a purchase, he thought that in the 
course of God's Providence, He would furnish him with this 
precious gift. He acquired a strong confidence that by some 
means or other, he should get a Polyglott. One morning, a 
preacher's wife who lodged in the same family, said, " Mr. 

C, I had a strange dream last night." " What was it, Mrs. 

D. ," said he ? " Wty, I dreamed that some person, I know 
not who, had made you a present of a Polyglott Bible." He 
answered, " That I shall get a Polyglott soon, I have no 
doubt, but how, or by whom. I know not." — In the course of a 
day or two, he received a letter containing a bank-note of 10/. 
from a person from whom he never expected any thing of the 
kind : he immediately exclaimed, here is the Polyglott ! — He 
laid by the cash, wrote to a friend in London, who procured 
him a tolerably good copy of Walton's Polyglott, the price 
exactly 10/. 

The Reader will not have forgotten the most remarkable 
circumstance of his obtaining the money by which he pur- 
chased a Hebrew Gram mar. These two providential circum- 
stances, were the only foundation of all the knowledge he 
afterwards acquired either in Oriental learning, or Biblical 
Literature. In obtaining both these works, he saw the hand 
of God, and this became a powerful inducement to him, to 
give all diligence to acquire, and fidelity to use that knowledge 
which came to him through means utterly out of his own 
reach, and so distinctly marked to his apprehension by the 
especial Providence of God. He continued in the Norman 
Islands three years, labouring incessantly for the good of the 
people who heard him, though by the abundance of his 
labours, and intense studv, he greatly impaired his health. 

In the year 1787, the Rev. J. Wesley, accompanied by 
Thomas Coke, LL. D., and Mr. Joseph Bradford, visited the 
Norman Islands ; where he was well received, and preached 
to many large congregations both in Jersey and Guernsey. 
While in Jersey, he lodged at the house of Robert Can* 
Brackenbury, Esq., who 'has been already mentioned : and 
when in Guernsey, at Mon Plaisir, the house of Henry De 
Jersey, Esq., under whose hospitable roof Mr. C. had lodged 
for more than a year, and was treated by all the family as if 
he had been their own child. There was no love lost, as he 
felt for them that affection which subsists between members 
of the same family. 

Mr. Wesley's time allotted for his visit to these Islands being 



MR. WESLEY. 



205 



expired, he purposed sailing for Southampton by the first fair 
wind, as he had appointed to be at Bristol on a particular day : 
but the wind continuing adverse, and an English brig touching 
at Guernsey on her way from France to Penzance, they agreed 
for their passage, Mr. C. having obtained Mr. Wesley's per- 
mission to accompany them to England. They sailed out of 
Guernsey Road on Thursday, September 6, with a fine fair 
breeze ; but in a short time, the wind which had continued 
slackening, died away, and afterwards rose up in that quarter 
which would have favoured the passage to Southampton or 
Weymouth, had they been so bound. The contrary wind 
blew into a tight breeze, and they were obliged to make fre 
quent tacks, in order to clear the Island. Mr. W. was sitting 
reading in the cabin, and hearing the noise and bustle which 
were occasioned by putting about the vessel, to stand on her 
different tacks, he put his head above deck and inquired what 
was the matter ? Being told the wind was become contrary, 
and the ship was obliged to tack, he said, Then let us go to 
prayer. His own company, who were upon deck, walked 
down, and at his request Dr. Coke, Mr. Bradford, and Mr. 
Clarke, went to prayer. After the latter had ended, Mr. W. 
broke out into fervent supplication, which seemed to be more 
the offspring of strong faith than of mere desire, his words 
were remarkable, as well as the spirit, evident feeling, and 
manner, in which they were uttered : some of them were to 
the following effect : " Almighty and everlasting God, thou 
hast way every where, and all things serve the purposes of 
thy will : thou holdest the winds in thy fist, and sittest upon 
the water floods, and reignest a King for ever : — command 
these winds and these waves that they obey thee ; and take 
us speedily and safely to the haven whither we would be, &c. \ n 
The power of his petition was felt by all : — he rose from his 
knees, made no kind of remark, but took up his book and con- 
tinued his reading. Mr. C. went upon deck, and what was 
his surprise when he found the vessel standing her right 
course, with a steady breeze, which slacked not, till, carrying 
them at the rate of nine or ten knots an hour, they anchored 
safely near St. Michael's Mount, in Penzance Bay. On the 
sudden and favourable change of the wind, Mr. W. made no 
remark : so fully did he expect to be heard, that he took for 
granted he icas heard. Such answers to prayer he was in the 
habit of receiving ; and therefore to him, the occurrence was 
not strange. — Of such a circumstance how many of those who 
did not enter into his views, would have descanted at large, 
had it happened in favour of themselves ; yet all the notice he 
takes of this singular circumstance is contained in the follow- 
ing entry in his Journal ■ — 

" In the morning, Thursday, (Sept. 6th. 1787,) we went on 
18 



206 



MISS MARY COOKE. 



board with a fair moderate wind. But we had but just entered 
the ship when the wind died away. We, cried to God for 
help : and it presently sprung up, exactly fair, and did not 
cease till it brought us into Penzance Bay." 

Mr. Wesley was no ordinary man : every hour, every minute 
of his time was devoted to the great work which God had 
given him to do ; and it is not to be wondered at that he was 
favoured, and indeed accredited, with many signal interpo- 
sitions of Divine Providence. Mr. Clarke himself has con- 
fessed that high as his opinion was of Mr. W.'s piety and 
faith, he had no hope that the wind which had long sat 
in the opposite quarter, and which had just now changed in a 
very natural way, would immediately veer about, except by 
providential interference, to blow in a contrary direction. 
There were too many marked extraordinary circumstances in 
this case, to permit any attentive observer to suppose that 
the change had been effected by any natural or casual oc 
currence. 

As Mr. W.'s appearance in that part of England was totally 
unexpected, (having formed his route to Bristol,) it was neces- 
sary to announce it. Mr. Clarke, therefore, a few hours after 
his landing, took horse and rode to Redruth, Truro, St. Austell, 
and Plymouth Dock, preaching in each place, and announcing 
Mr. W. for the following evening, all the company meeting at 
Plymouth Dock, on Tuesday 10, they proceeded to Exeter, the 
next day ; and on Friday 13th, they took the mail-coach, and 
io the evening arrived safely at Bath ; where having tarried 
till the following Monday, Mr. W. proceeded to Bristol, and 
Mr. Clarke to Trowbridge, in Wilts, where the lady resided, 
to whom, in the course of the next year, he was married. 

Miss Mary Cooke, the lady in question, was the eldest 
daughter of Mr. John Cooke, clothier, of Trowbridge, well 
educated, of a fine natural disposition, deep piety, and sound 
judgment. They had been acquainted for several years, and 
their attachment to each other was formed on the purest prin- 
ciples of reason and religion, and was consolidated with that 
affection which, where the natural dispositions are properly 
suited, will never permit the married life to be a burden ; but 
on the contrary, the most powerful help to mental cultivation 
and the growth of genuine piety. In such cases, love and 
affection will be infallibly ripened and mellowed into genuine 
friendship, esteem, respect, and reverence. The yoke of the 
conjugal life becomes, as its name imports, an equal yoke — 
the husband and wife are both in the harness, and each party 
bears its proportional share of the burden of domestic life : 
and in such a case, it may be most truly said, The yoke is 
easy, and the butrden is light. 

The connexion between Mr. C. and Miss Cooke was too 



HIS MARRIAGE. 



207 



good and holy not to be opposed. Some of her friends supposed 
they should be degraded by her alliance with a Methodist 
preacher, but pretended to cover their unprincipled opposition 
with the veil, that one so delicately bred up, would not be able 
to bear the troubles and privations of a Methodist preacher's 
life. These persons so prejudiced Mr. Wesley, himself, that 
he threatened to put Mr. C. out of the Connexion if he mar- 
ried Miss C. without her mother's approbation ! 

Finding that Mr. W. was deceived by false representations, 
Doth Mr. C. and Miss Cooke laid before him a plain and full 
state of the case : he heard also the opposite party, who were 
at last reduced to acknowledge, that in this connexion, every- 
thing was proper and Christian ; and all would be well, should 
the mother consent ; but if a marriage should take place with- 
out this, it would be a breach of the third commandment, and 
be a great cause of offence among the people who feared God. 
As to Mrs. C. herself, she grounded her opposition solely on 
the principle that her daughter would be exposed to destruc- 
tive hardships in the itinerant life of a Methodist preacher ; 
acknowledging that she had no objection to Mr. C, whom for 
his good sense and learning, she highly esteemed. 

Mr. Wesley, like a tender parent, interposed his good offices 
to bring these matters to an accommodation — made those who 
were called Methodists ashamed of the part they had taken in 
this business, and wrote a friendly letter to Mrs. C. The op 
position, which had arisen to a species of persecution, now 
began to relax ; and as the hostile party chose at least to sleep 
on their arms, after waiting about a year longer, Mr. Clarke 
and Miss Cooke were married in Trowbridge church, April 
17, 1788 ; and in about, a week afterwards sailed to the Nor- 
man Islands. Few connexions of this kind, were ever more 
opposed ; and few, if any, were ever more happy. The stea- 
diness of the parties, during this opposition, endeared them 
to each other: they believed that God had joined them toge- 
ther, and no storm or difficulty in life was able to put them 
asunder. If their principal opponents have acted a more con- 
sistent part, it is the better for themselves ; however they have 
lived long enough to know that they meddled with what did 
not concern them ; and Mrs. Cooke, many years before her 
death, saw that she had been imposed on and deceived ; and 
that this marriage was one of the most happy in her family, 
m which there were some of the most respectable connexions ; 
— one daughter having married that most excellent man, Jo- 
seph Butterworth, Esq. M.P., a pattern of practical Christian- 
ity, a true friend to the genuine church of God, and a pillar in 
the state : and another was married to the Rev. Mr. Thomas, 
Rector of Begally, in South Wales, an amiable and truly pi- 
ous man. Mr. Clarke's marriage was crowned with a numer- 
ous progeny, six sons, and six daughters; of whom three sons 



208 



PERSECUTIONS. 



and three daughters died young, and three sons and three 
daughters have arrived at mature age. and are most respectably 
and comfortably settled in life. I have judged it necessary to 
introduce these particulars here, though out of their chronolo- 
gical order, lest they should afterwards disturb the thread of 
the narrative. 

During his stay in the Norman Isles he met with much per- 
secution from that part of the people for whose salvation he 
laboured most. One Sabbath morning, accompanied by cap- 
tain and lieutenant W. and Mr. Wm. S., having gone to 
preach at La Valle, a low part of the island of Guernsey, al- 
ways surrounded by the sea at high water, to which at such 
times there is no access but by means of a sort of causeway, 
called the bridge; a multitude of unruly people with drums, 
horns, and various offensive weapons, assembled at the bridge 
to prevent his entering this islet. The tide being a little out, 
he ventured to ride across about a mile below the bridge, with- 
out their perceiving him, got to the house and had nearly 
finished his discourse before the mob could assemble. At last 
they came in full power, and with fell purpose. The captain 
of a man of war, and the naval lieutenant, and the other gen- 
tleman, who had accompanied him, mounted their horses and 
rode off at full gallop, leaving him in the hands of the mob ! 
That he might not be able so to escape, they cut his bridle in 
pieces. Nothing intimidated, he went among them, got upon 
an eminence and began to speak to them. The drums and 
horns ceased, the majority of the mob became quiet and peace- 
able, only a few from the outskirts, throwing stones and dirt, 
which he dexterously evaded by various inclinations of his 
head and body, so that he escaped all hurt, and after about an 
hour, they permitted him to mend his bridle, and depart in 
peace. On his return to St. Peters, he found his naval he- 
roes in great safety, who seem to have acted on the old 
proverb, 

" He that fights and runs away, 
May live to fight another day." 

He had a more narrow escape for his life, one evening, at 
St. Aubin's in the island of Jersey. A desperate mob of some 
hundreds, with almost all common instruments of destruction, 
assembled round the house in which he was preaching, which 
was a wooden building, with five windows. At their first ap- 
proach, a principal part of the congregation issued forth, and 
provided for their own safety. The Society alone, about thir- 
teen persons, remained with their preacher. The mob find- 
ing that all with whom they might claim brotherhood had es- 
caped, formed the dreadful resolution to pull down the house, 
and bury the preacher and his friends in the ruins ! Mr. C. 
continued to address the people, exhorting them to trust in 



PERSECUTIONS, 



209 



that God who was able to save ; one of the mob present- 
ed a pistol at him through the window opposite to the pulpit, 
which twice flashed in the pan. Others had got crows, and 
were busily employed in sapping the foundation of the house : 
Mr. C. perceiving this, said to the people, " If we stay here, 
we shall all be destroyed : I will go out among them, they 
seek not you but me : after they have got me, they will per- 
mit you to pass unmolested." They besought him with tears 
not to leave the house, as lie would be infallibly murdered. He, 
seeing that there was no time to be lost, as they continued to 
sap the foundations of the house, said, " I will instantly go 
out among them, in the name of God." Je vous accompagne- 
rai< " I will accompany you," said a stout young man. As the 
house was assailed with showers of stones, he met a volley of 
these as he opened and passed through the door ; it was a clear 
full-moon night, the clouds having dispersed after a previously 
heavy storm of hail and rain. He walked forward, — the mob 
divided to the right, and left, and made an ample passage for 
him and the young man who followed him, to pass through. 
This they did to the very uttermost skirts of the hundreds 
who were there assembled, with drums, horns, fifes, spades, 
forks, bludgeons, &c. to take the life of a man whose only 
crime was, proclaiming to lost sinners redemption through 
the blood of the cross. During the whole time of his passing 
through the mob, there was a death-like silence, nor was there 
any motion, but that which was necessary to give him a free 
passage ! Either their eyes were holden that they could not 
know him ; or they were so overawed by the power of God, 
that they could not lift a hand, or utter a word against him. 
The poor people finding all was quiet, came out a little after, 
and passed away, not one of them being either hurt or mo- 
lested ! In a few minutes the mob seemed to awake as from 
a dream, and finding that their prey had been plucked out of 
their teeth, they knew not how ; attacked the house afresh, 
broke every square of glass in all the windows, and scarcely 
left a whole tile upon the roof. 

He afterwards learnt that the design of the mob was to put 
him in the sluice of an overshot water-mill ; by which he 
must necessarily have been crushed to pieces.* 

* In the following note in Dr. Clarke's Commentary, on Luke iv. 
30., he gives a very admirable account of this same transaction: what 
is here related of 'A missionary who had been sent to a strange land," 
&c, *is a fact of Dr. Clarke himself. 

" The following relation of a fact presents a scene something simi- 
lar to what I suppose passed on this occasion : — A missionary, who 
had been sent to a strange land to proclaim the gospel of the kingdom 
of God, and who had passed through many hardships, and was often 
in danger of losing his life, through the persecutions excited against 
him, came to a place where he had often before 5 at no small risk, 



210 



PERSECUTIONS. 



The next Lord's-day he went to the same place : the mob 
rose again, and when thev began to make a tumult, he called 
on them to hear him for a few moments ; those who appeared 
to have most influence, grew silent and stilled the rest. He 
spoke to them to this effect. — " I have never done any of you 
harm ; my heartiest wish was, and is, to do you good. I could 

preached Christ crucified. About fifty people, who had received good 
impressions from the word of God, assembled. He began his dis- 
course ; and after he had preached about thirty minutes, an outrage- 
ous mob surrounded the house, armed with different instruments of 
death, and breathing the most sanguinary purposes. Some that were 
within, shut to the door ; and the missionary and his flock betook 
themselves to prayer. The mob assailed the house, and began to 
hurl stones against the walls, windows, and roof; and in a short time 
almost every tile was destroyed, and the roof nearly uncovered, and 
before they quitted the premises, scarcely left one square inch of glass 
in the five windows by which the house was enlightened. While this 
was going forward, a person came with a pistol to the window oppo- 
site to the place where the preacher stood, (who was then exhorting 
his flock to be steady, to resign themselves to God, and trust in Him,) 
presented it at him, and snapped it, but it only flashed in the pan ! 
As the house was a wooden building, they began with crows and 
spades to undermine it, and take away its principal supports. The 
preacher then addressed his little flock to this effect: — ' These out- 
rageous people seek not you, but me : if 1 continue in the house they 
will soon pull it down, and we shall all be buried in the ruins ; I will 
therefore, in the name of God, go out to them, and you will be safe. 5 
He then went towards the door: the poor people got round him, and 
entreated him not to venture out, as he might expect to be instantly 
massacred. He went calmly forward, opened the door, at which a 
whole volley of stones and dirt was that instant discharged ; but he 
received no damage. The people were in crowds in all the space be- 
fore the door, and filled the road for a considerable way, so that there 
was no room to pass or repass. As soon as the preacher made his 
appearance, the savages became instantly as silent and as still as 
night: he walked forward, and they divided to the right and to the 
left, leaving a passage of about four feet wide, for himself, and a 
young man who followed him, to walk in. He passed on through 
the whole crowd, not a soul of whom either lifted a hand, or spoke 
one word, till he and his companion had gained the uttermost skirts 
of the mob ! The narrator, who was present on the occasion, goes 
on to say : — 1 This was one of the most affecting spectacles I ever wit- 
nessed ; an infuriated mob, without any visible cause, (for the preacher 
spoke not one word,) became in a moment as calm as lambs ! They 
seemed struck with amazement bordering on stupefaction ; they stared 
and stood speechless ; and after they had fallen back to right and left 
to leave him a free passage, they were as motionless as statues ! 
They assembled with the full purpose to destroy the man who came 
to shew them the way of salvation ; but he passing through the midst 
of them, went his way. Was not the God of missionaries in this work 1 
The next Lord's-day, the missionary went to the same place, and 
again proclaimed the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the 
world !' M 



PERSECUTIONS. 



211 



tell you many things by which you might grow wise unto 
salvation, would you but listen to them. Why do you perse- 
cute a man who never can be your enemy, and wishes to shew 
that he is your friend. You cannot be Christians, who seek 
to destroy a man because he tells you the truth. But are you 
even men? Do you deserve that name? I am but an indi- 
vidual and unarmed, and scores and hundreds of you join 
together to attack and destroy this single, unarmed man ! 
Is not this to act like cowards and assassins ? I am a man 
and a Christian. I fear you not as a man, — I would not turn 
my back upon the best of you, and could probably put your 
chief under my feet. St. Paul, the Apostle, was assailed in 
like manner by the heathens ; they also were dastards and 
cowards. The Scripture does not call them men, but, ac- 
cording to the English translation, certain lewd fellows of the 
baser sort, or according to your own, which you better under- 
stand, Les batteurs de pave — La canaille. O shame on you, 
to come in multitudes, to attack an inoffensive stranger in your 
island, who comes only to call you from wickedness to serve 
the living God, and to shew you the way which will at last 
lead you to everlasting blessedness !" He paused, there was 
a shout, He is a clever fellow, Jie shall preach, and we will 
hear him! They were as good as their word; he proceeded 
without any farther hinderance from them, and they never after 
gave him any molestation ! 

The little preaching-house being nearly destroyed, he, some 
Sabbaths afterwards, attempted to preach out of doors. The 
mob having given up persecution, one of the magistrates of 
St. Aubin, whose name should be handed down to everlasting 
fame, took up the business, came to the place, with a mob of 
his own, and the drummer of the regiment, belonging to that 
place, pulled him down while he was at prayer, and delivered 
him into the hands of that canaille of which he was the 
head ; the drummer attended him out of the town beating the 
Rogues^ March on his drum ; and beating him frequently with 
the drum sticks ; from whose strokes and other misusage he 
did not recover for some weeks. But he wearied out all his 
persecutors, — there were several who heard the word gladly ; 
and for their sakes he freely ventured himself till at last all 
opposition totally ceased. 

Another escape, though of a different kind, should not be 
unnoticed. The winter of 1788, was unusually severe in the 
Norman Islands, as well as in most other places. There were 
large falls of snow which had drifted into great wreathes, 
which made travelling in the country very dangerous. Hav- 
ing appointed to preach one evening, in the beginning of Jan- 
uary, at St. Aubin, the place mentioned above ; he went to 
the town in company with the same young man who followed 
him out of the preaching-house, when he had so miraculous 



212 



SOPORIFIC EFFECTS OF INTENSE COLD. 



an escape from the mob ; but because of the snow they were 
obliged to follow the sea-mark all the way along the bay of 
St. Aubin. When they arrived at the town he was nearly be- 
numbed with the cold, and with fatigue; as it had blown hard 
with snow and sleet, and they were very wet, being obliged 
often to walk in the sea-water, to keep out of. the drifts that 
lay on the sands. He preached, but was almost totally ex- 
hausted. He was obliged to return to St. Helliers, which by 
the water mark along the bay, must have been between four 
and five miles : — much snow had fallen during the preaching, 
and the night became worse and worse. He set out, having 
had no kind of refreshment, and began to plod his way with 
faint and unsteady steps : at last a drowsiness, often the effect 
of intense cold when the principle of heat is almost entirely 
abstracted, fell upon him. He said to the young man, " Frank, 
I can go no farther, till I get a little sleep — let m« lie down a 
few mirfutes on one of these snow drifts, and then I shall get 
strength to go on."— Frank expostulated, — u O Sir, you must 
not: — were you to lie down but a minute, you would never 
rise more. — Do not fear, hold by me, and I will drag you on, 
and we shall soon get to St. Helliers. 55 He answered, " Frank, 
I cannot proceed, — I am only sleepy, and even two minutes 
will refresh me ; 55 — and he attempted to throw himself upon a 
snow drift, which appeared to him with higher charms than 
the finest bed of down. Francis was then obliged to interpose 
the authority of his strength — pulled him up, and continued 
dragging and encouraging him, till with great labour and dif- 
ficulty he brought him to St. Helliers. 

It is well known that by intense cold, when long continued 
the powers of the whole nervous system become weakened ; 
a torpor of the animal functions ensues ; the action of the 
muscles is feeble, and scarcely obedient to the will; an uncon- 
querable languor and indisposition to motion succeeds ; and a 
gradual exhaustion of the nervous power shews itself in drow- 
siness, which terminates in sleep, from which the person, 
unless speedily aroused, awakes no more. — This was precisely 
Mr. C. 5 s state at the time above mentioned ; and had not his 
friend been resolute, as well as strong, but suffered him to lie 
down in his then exhausted state, less than Jive minutes would 
have terminated his mortal existence. 

The reader will perhaps recollect the account given in Capt 
CooWs Voyages, of eleven persons, among whom were Sir 
Joseph Banks, and Dr. Solander, who went among the hill? 
of Terra del Fuego, on a botanizing excursion, in January 
1769 ; who, being overtaken with darkness, were obliged V 
spend the night on the hills, during extreme cold. Dr. Solan 
der, who had more than once crossed the mountains whicl 
divide Sweden from Norway, well knew that extreme cold 
especially when joined to fatigue, produces a torpor and sleepi 



SOPORIFIC EFFECTS OF INTENSE COLD. 



213 



fiess which are almost irresistible ; he therefore conjured the 
company to keep moving, whatever pains it might cost them, 
and whatever relief they might be promised by an inclination 
to rest ; for, said he, " Whoever sits down will sleep ; and 
whoever sleeps will wake no more." — While they were on the 
naked rocks, before they could get among the bushes, the cold 
became so intense as to produce the effects that had been most 
dreaded. Dr. Solander was the first who felt the irresistible 
inclination to sleep, against which he had warned the others ; 
and insisted on being permitted to lie down; Mr. Banks (Sir 
Joseph) entreated and remonstrated in vain — down he lay on 
the ground, then covered with snow, and it was with the great- 
est difficulty he was prevented from sleeping. After a little 
they got him on his legs, and partly by entreaty and partly by 
force, brought him on, till at last he declared he neither could 
nor would go any farther, till he had had. some sleep when they 
attempted to hinder him, he drew his sword, and threatened 
the life of his friends ; — they were unable to carry him, and 
were obliged to suffer him to lie down, and he fell instantly 
into a profound sleep. Some men who had been sent forward 
to kindle afire, just then returned with the joyful news that 
they had succeeded : Dr. Solander with the greatest difficulty 
was awaked, and though he had not. slept five minutes, yet he 
nad then nearly lost the use of his limbs ; and the muscles 
were so shrunk, that the shoes fell off his feet. Two blacks, 
who were in the same circumstances, could not be re-awaked, 
they slept their last ; but all the rest on being brought to the 
fire recovered. 

The bay of St. Aubin, was very near furnishing another in- 
stance, to several already published, of the soporific effects of 
Intense cold on the human body : — the life of the subject of 
this narrative, being barely saved from a similar death. 

The fable of the Lion taken in a net, and delivered by a 
Mouse, has been, in its moral, frequently realized. Several 
years after this, Francis, the young man above mentioned, 
who was a joiner, having come to London in order to better 
his situation, was by sickness, the death of his wife, and other 
circumstances, involved in debt, and ultimately thrown into 
prison by a ruthless creditor : — Mr. C, who happened to be in 
London at the time, (1796,) heard the case, paid the debt, and 
delivered his friend, whom he had not heard of for nine or ten 
years, from his wretched circumstances ; and restored him to 
liberty, and to his motherless children. — No kind or benevo- 
lent act, be it done to whom it may, ever loses its reward. — 
It is laid up before God, and has its return generally in this, 
and often also in the coming world. 

Mr. Clarke was the first Methodist preacher that visited 
the Island of Alderney, the nearest to France of all the Nor- 
man Islands ; as it is separated from Cape la Hogue, in Nor- 



214 



HE VISITS ALDERNEY. 



mandy, only by a narrow channel three leagues broad, called 
the Race of Alderney. There was something singular in his 
visit to this Island, which he details in a Letter to the Rev. J. 
Wesley ; the substance of which I shall here insert. 

Guernsey, March 16, 1787. 

" Rev. and very dear Sir, 

" As in my last I intimated my intention to visit the Isle of 
Alderney ; I think it my duty to give you some particulars rela- 
tive to the success of that voyage. — My design being made 
public, many hinderances were thrown in my way. It was re- 
ported that the Governor had threatened to prohibit my land- 
ing, and that in case he found me on the Island, he would 
transport me to the Caskets, (a rock in the sea, about three 
leagues W. of Alderney ; on which there is a light-house ;) 
these threatenings being published here rendered it very diffi- 
cult for me to procure a passage, as several of my friends were 
against my going, fearing bad consequences ; and none of the 
captains who traded to the Island, were willing to take me, 
fearing to incur thereby the displeasure of the Governor, not- 
withstanding I offered them any thing they could reasonably 
demand for my passage. I thought at last I should be obliged 
to hire one of the English packets, as I was determined to go, 
by God's grace, at all events. 

" Having waited a long time, watching sometimes day and 
night, I at last got a vessel bound for the Island, in which I 
embarked, and after a few hours of pleasant sailing, though 
not without some fatigue and sickness, we came to the SW. 
side of the Island, where we were obliged to cast anchor, as 
the tide was too far spent to carry us round to the harbour. 
The captain put me and some others on shore with the boat. 
I then climbed up the steep rocks, and got to the top of the Isl- 
and, heartily thanking the Lord for my safe passage. Being 
arrived, I found I had some new difficulties to encounter. I 
knew not where to go : I had no acquaintance in tne place, nor 
had any invited me thither. For some time my mind was 
perplexed in reasoning on these things, till that word of 
the God of Missionaries came powerfully to me, 1 Into what- 
soever house ye enter, first say, peace be to this house, — and in 
the same house remain, eating and drinking such things as 
they give you.' Luke x. 5, 7. From this I tooK courage, and 
proceeded to the town, which is about a mile distant from the 
harbour. After having walked some way into it, I took par- 
ticular notice of a very poor cottage, into which I felt a strong 
inclination to enter. I did so, with a 'Peace be unto this 
house and found in it an old man and woman, who, having 
understood my business, bade me £ welcome to the best food 
they had, to a little chamber where I might sleep, and (what 
was still more acceptable) to their house to preach in. r On 



HE VISITS ALDERNEY. 



215 



hearing this, I saw plainly that the hand of the Lord was upon 
me for good, and I thanked him and took courage. 

" Being unwilling to lose any time, I told them I would 
preach that evening, if they could procure me a congregation. 
This strange news spread rapidly through the town : and lon^ 
before the appointed hour a multitude of people flocked to^ 
gether, to whom I spoke of the kingdom of God, nearly as 
long as the little strength held out, which remained from the 
fatigues of my .voyage. It was with much difficulty I could 
persuade them to go away, after promising to preach to them 
the next evening. 

" I then retired to my little apartment, where I had scarcely 
rested twenty minutes, when the good woman of the house 
came and entreated me to come down and preach again, as 
several of the gentry, (among whom was one of the justices,) 
were come to hear what I had to say. I stepped down imme- 
diately, and found the house once more quite full. Deep at- 
tention sat on every face, while I shewed the great need they 
stood in of a Saviour, and exhorted them to turn immediately 
from all their iniquities to the living God. I continued in this 
good work about an hour, having received peculiar assistance 
from on high, and concluded with informing them what my 
design was in visiting their island, and the motives that in- 
duced me thereto. Having ended, the justice stepped forward } 
exchanged a few very civil words with me, and desired to see 
the book out of which I had been speaking. I gave it into his 
hand : he looked over it with attention, and asked me several 
questions ; all which I answered apparently to his satisfac- 
tion. Having bestowed a few more hearty advices on him 
and the congregation, they all quickly departed ; and the con- 
cern evident on many of their countenance fully proved that 
God had added his testimony to that of his feeble servant. 
The next evening I preached again to a large attentive com- 
pany, to whom, I trust, the word of the Lord came not in vain. 

"But a singular circumstance took place the next day. 
While I sat at dinner a constable from a person in authority, 
came to solicit my immediate appearance at a place called the 
Bray (where several respectable families dwelt, and where 
the Governor's stores are kept,) to preach to a company of 
gentlemen and ladies, who were waiting, and at whose desire 
one of the large store-rooms was prepared for that purpose. 
I went without delay, and was brought by the lictor to his 
master's apartment, who behaved with much civility, told me 
the reason of his sending for me, and begged I would preach 
without delay. I willingly consented, and in a quarter of an 
hour a large company was assembled. The gentry were not 
so partial to themselves, as to exclude several sailors, smug- 
glers, and labourers, from hearing with them. The Lord was 
with me, and enabled me to explain from Pro v. xii. 26., the 



216 



HE VISITS ALOEKNEY. 



character and conduct of the righteous ; and to prove by many 
sound arguments, that such a one was, beyond all comparison 
' more excellent than his' ungodly ' neighbour,' however great, 
rich, wise, or important he might appear in the eyes of men. 
All heard with deep attention, save an English gentleman, so 
called, who walked out about the middle of the discourse, 
perhaps to shew the islanders that he despised sacred things. 

"The next Sabbath morning, being invited to preach in 
the English church, I gladly accepted it, and in the evening 
I preached in the large warehouse at the Bray, to a much 
larger congregation, composed of the principal gentry of the 
Island, together with justices, jurats, constables, &c. The 
Lord was again with me, and enabled me to declare His 
counsel without fear, and several were affected. Surely there 
will be fruit found of this, to the honour and praise of God. 
Even so, Lord Jesus ! Amen. 

" The next day being the time appointed for my return, 
many were unwilling I should go, saying, c We have much 
need of such preaching, and such a preacher : we wish you 
would abide in the Island and go back no more.' The tide 
serving at about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, I attended: at 
the beach in order to embark ; but an unexpected Providence 
rendered this impracticable. The utmost of the flood did not 
set the vessel afloat ; and, though many attempts were made 
to get her off, by hauling astern, &c, all were in vain. I then 
returned to the town ; the people were glad of my detention, 
and earnestly hoped, c that the vessel might sit fast, at least 
till the next spring tides.' Many came together in the evening, 
to whom I again preached with uncommon liberty ; and God 
appeared more eminently present than before, giving several 
to see at least, £ men as trees walking.' This, with several 
other observable circumstances, induced me to believe that 
my detention was of the Lord, and that I had not before fully 
delivered His counsel. The vessel being got off the same 
night about twelve o'clock, I recommended them to God, 
promised them a preacher shortly, and setting sail I arrived 
in Guernsey in about twenty-one hours. Glory be to God for 
ever ! Amen. 

" Several very remarkable circumstances attended this 
little voyage, the detailing of which I omit ;■ from the whole 
of which 1 conclude, that an effectual door is opened in that 
Island for the reception of the everlasting Gospel, and am 
convinced I did not mistake the call of the Lord. One thing 
I believe greatly contributed to the good that may have been 
done : — viz. a day of fasting and prayer, which I got our So- 
cieties both in town and country to observe. Were this 
method more frequently adopted we should not attempt the 
introduction of the Gospel so much in vain. There is not the 
smallest opposition nor even the appearance of any. As to 



ACCOUNT OF THE NORMAN ISLES. 



217 



the clergyman, he is absolutely a Gallio ; for, on being in- 
formed that a Methodist preacher had got into the Island, he 
said, £ A Quaker came a-preaching here some years ago, and 
he did not convert one ; and it is probable it will be the case 
with this Methodist also.' And so he rests perfectly contented. 
Indeed he preaches not at all: he reads the Liturgy and 
OstervalcPs Reflections upon the First and Second Lessons; 
nor do the people expect him to do any thing farther. 

I am, Rev. and Dear Sir, 
Your affectionate and Obedient Son in the Gospel, 

Adam Clarke." 

Since the time above mentioned, a great increase of religion 
has been seen in the island of Alderney. A chapel has been 
built, and many have been brought from the power of Satan 
unto God, by means of the Methodist preachers, both English 
and French. 

Alderney, called by the inhabitants Auregny, lies about three 
leagues south-west of Cape la Hogue, in Normandy. 

This Island derives much of its supplies from France, 
Such as, fresh meat, butter, eggs, &c, which supply, to the 
great inconvenience of the inhabitants, is cut off in the time 
of war : and is often suspended in the time of peace, by foul 
weather and contrary winds. This latter was the case when 
Mr. C. visited this Island, no fresh meat could be found ; and 
the people with whom he lodged had nothing to present him, 
out swine's fleshy an aliment of which he never partook. In- 
deed there was nothing to be had besides, except salt butter 
and ship-biscuit. Having inquired whether any fresh eggs 
could be procured, he had the satisfaction to find as many as 
he needed during his stay. An old frying-pan was found, 
deeply rusted, having been long out of use : from this he 
scraped off the thickest crusts of the rust, got a piece of but- 
ter, melted it in the pan over the fire, and with a handful of 
oakum (old tarred rope, unravelled to its component parts) he 
wiped out the pan as clean as he could, and then fried his 
eggs with a piece of the salt butter, which looked of a fine 
deep brown, each cooking serving to detach some portions of 
the remaining rust. Such fricassees with coarse hard ship- 
biscuit served him in general for breakfast, dinner, and supper, 
while he remained on the Island : and for this he felt thank- 
ful both to God and man. It is true, he had some invitations 
to go to better houses, and get better fare ; but he remembered 
the words of our Lord, which occurred to his mind on enter- 
ing into the town, "And into whatsoever house you enter, 
there abide, eating and drinking such things as they give you." 
This house he believed the Lord had opened; and on this ac- 
count he could have preferred it to the palace of the forest of 
Lebanon. While he remained in these Islands he had the 

n 



218 



BRISTOL CIRCUIT. 



satisfaction to be able to erect a convenient and excellent cha 
pel, in the town of St. Peter's in Guernsey, and saw a large 
and respectable congregation established in it. 

Among these Islanders Mr. C. met with much kindness : — 
several were converted to God, who became ornaments of their 
profession, and patterns of piety. In Guernsey he seldom met 
with any improper usage. Many decent, respectable families, 
attended his preaching, and treated him with great respect. 
This was the case also at Alderney. Jersey differed from all 
the rest, as we have already seen ; yet there he had among his 
friends, some of the first families in the island. 

The fertility of these islands has been noticed by histo- 
rians in general, — as a proof of this, take the following ex- 
amples : — 

In a garden in the parish of St. Saviour's in Jersey, he saw a 
plot of cabbages, which, on an average, measured seven feet in 
height, with large and solid heads. In Mr. De Jersey's garden, 
at Mon Plaisir, in Guernsey, where he lodged, there was a 
cabbage that grew beside, and surpassed in height, a full-grown 
apple tree : when cut down, the stem was sixteen feet in 
length I 

The strawberry garden in the same place was very remark- 
able, both for the abundance, size, and flavour of the fruit. It 
will surprise the Reader to hear that from this one garden, 
which, though large, was not enormously so, there were gath- 
ered daily, Sundays excepted, for nearly six weeks, from fifty 
to one hundred pounds weight of strawberries ! All other 
fruits were in proportion, both in quantity and flavour. In 
Mr. Brackenbury's garden, in St. Helliers, Jersey, he cut down 
a bunch of grapes, which weighed about twenty pounds ! 
When he and Mrs. Clarke returned to England, they could 
not relish any of the fruits, as the finest peaches and necta- 
rines were only like good turnips, when compared with fruits 
of the same species produced in those fertile islands. 



BRISTOL CIRCUIT. 

In July, 1789, he removed finally from the Norman islands, 
and, leaving Mrs. C. and his son John, then about six months 
old, at Trowbridge, he proceeded to Leeds, where the Confer- 
ence was that year held, and where he received his appoint- 
ment for the Bristol Circuit. 

By this time his studies and confinement in the islands, 
had preyed a good deal on his health ; and the cough, which 
he had got several years before by sleeping in a wet bed at 
Beeralston, became so severe and oppressive, that it threat- 
ened his death. Mr. Wesley himself saw this, and in a visit 



MR. WESLEY. 



219 



after Conference to Bristol, told the Society that " he be- 
lieved they would soon lose their assistant." He was, how- 
ever, enabled to go through the work of the Circuit, which 
was very severe ; and though there was but little prosperity 
in the Circuit, yet he left it both in its spiritual and temporal 
concerns, in a much better state than he found it. What con- 
tributed much to his ill health in Bristol was, all the lodging 
rooms were over the chapel, and the noxious effluvia from the 
breath of so many hundreds of people who assembled there 
throughout the week, made the place extremely unhealthy. 
The plan, of building all the lodging rooms over the chapel, 
and on which several of the original Methodist preaching houses 
were built, was greatly prejudicial to the health of the preach- 
ers and their families. 

In 1790 the Conference was held m Bristol, the last in 
which that most eminent man of God, John Wesley, presided : 
who seemed to have his mind particularly impressed with the 
necessity of making some permanent rule that might tend to 
lessen the excessive labour of the preachers, which he saw 
was shortening the lives of many useful men. 

In a private meeting with some of the principal and senior 
preachers, which was held in Mr. W.'s study, to prepare mat- 
ters for the Conference, he proposed that a rule should be made 
that no preacher should preach thrice on the same day : Messrs. 
Mather, Pawson, Thompson, and others, said this would be 
impracticable ; as it was absolutely necessary, in most cases, 
that the preachers should preach thrice every Lord's day, without 
which the places could not be supplied. Mr. W. replied, " It 
must be given up ; we shall lose our preachers by such exces- 
sive labour." They answered, " We have all done so : and 
you even at a very advanced age have continued to do so." 
" What I have done," said he, " is out of the question, my 
life and strength have been under an especial Providence ; 
besides, I know better than they how to preach without 
injuring myself; and no man can preach thrice a day with- 
out killing himself sooner or later ; and the custom shall 
not be continued." They pressed the point no farther, finding 
that he was determined ; but they deceived him after all. by 
altering the minute thus, when it went to the press : — No 
preacher shall any more preach three times in the same day 
(to the same congregation.)" By which clause the minute 
was entirely neutralized. He who preaches the Gospel as he 
ought, must do it with his whole strength of body and soul, 
and he who undertakes a labour of this kind thrice every Lord's 
day. will infallibly shorten his life by it. He, who, instead of 
preaching, talks to the people, merely speaks about good 
things, or tells a religious story, will never injure himself by 
such an employment ; such a person does not labour in the 



220 



MR. CLARKE IN DUBLIN. 



word and doctrine, he tells his tale, and as he preaches so his 
congregation believes, and sinners are left as he found them. 

At this Conference it was found very difficult to get a 
preacher for Dublin ; for during Mr. Wesley's life, an Eng- 
lish preacher was generally appointed to that station, and he 
was considered the general assistant, that is, Mr. W.'s repre- 
sentative, over all the Irish Circuits and preachers. Mr. C. 
was proposed by several of the preachers, but Mr. W. refused 
because of the indifferent state of his health : however, they 
at last persuaded Mr. W. to consent, provided, when the pro- 
posal should be made to Mr. C, he should not object. It was ac- 
cordingly laid before him ; and, as it was his maxim never to 
choose a Circuit, nor object to his appointment, he agreed, and 
was sent over to Dublin, Aug. 1790. 



DUBLIN. 

At the time of Mr. Clarke's arrival in Dublin, he found 
himself exposed to many inconveniences. They had been 
building a new house for the preacher, with which they con- 
nected a large room for a charity-school. The preacher and 
his family w r ere to occupy the lower part and first floor, and 
the charity-school was to extend over the whole of the tuild- 
ing, on the second floor. Owing to the unprincipled builder, 
the house was not made either according to the time or plan 
specified. The builder was a knave, to whom the stewards 
of the society had trusted the agreement signed by # each, 
which agreement he absolutely refused ever to produce. Bad 
brick, bad mortar, inferior timber, and execrable workmanship, 
were every where apparent ; and the knave was safe, as he 
professed to have lost the agreement, but maintained that all 
was done according to the specification. The house not 
being ready, Mr. C. and his family were obliged to go into 
lodgings, which were far from being either comfortable or 
convenient, but it was near the chapel, and the new house 
was expected to be soon -ready. 

The inconvenience of the lodging induced Mr. Clarke to 
enter the new house long before it was dry, which nearly cost 
him and his family their lives. He was shortly seized with a 
dreadful rheumatic affection in his head, which was supposed 
to be occasioned by a congestion of the blood-vessels of the 
brain 5 and in consequence of this supposition, his physicians 
were led to adopt a wrong treatment, which assisted the dis- 
ease, and by both he was brought nearly to the gates of death. 
His recovery was slow and imperfect, and he was obliged, at 
the ensuing Conference, to return to England. 

Dublin was not at that time a comfortable situation for a 



DIFFICULTIES IN DUBLIN. 



221 



preacher. There had been disputes in the Society which had 
greatly injured it. Dr. Coke, with the approbation of Mr. Wesley, 
had introduced the use of the Liturgy into the chapel at White- 
friar Street, — this measure was opposed by some of the leading 
members of the Society, as tending to what they called a sepa^ 
ration from the church ; when, in truth, it was the most effec- 
tual way to keep the Society attached to the spirit and doctrines 
of the church ; who, because they were without Divine service 
in church hours, were scattered throughout the city, some at 
church, and many more at different places of Dissenting wor- 
ship, where they heard doctrines that tended greatly to unsettle 
their religious opinions ; and in the end, many were lost to the 
Society. In consequence of the introduction of the Liturgy a 
very good congregation assembled at Whitefriar Street ; and 
much good might have been done, if the rich members of the 
Society had not continued hostile to the measure, by with- 
drawing their countenance and support, which they generally 
did. At last, both sides agreed to desire the British Confer- 
ence, for the sake of peace, to restore matters to their original 
state, and abolish the forenoon's service ; Mr. C, who at that 
time laboured under the same kind of prejudice, gave his voice 
against the* continuance of the Prayers, and, at his recommen- 
dation, the Conference annulled tne service. This was the 
greatest ecclesiastical error he ever committed ; and one 
which he deeply deplored for many years ; and was thankful to 
God when in the course of Divine Providence, he was enabled 
many years after to restore that service in the newly erected 
chapel in Abbey Street, which he had formerly been the instru- 
ment of putting down in Whitefriar Street; — that very same 
party, to please whom it was done, having separated from the 
Methodists' body, and setup a spurious and factious connexion 
of their own, under the name of Primitive Methodism; a prin- 
cipal object of which was to deprive the original connexion of 
its chapels, divide its societies, and in every way injure its 
finances, and traduce both its spiritual and loyal character. 

It may be asked, " Why did Mr. C. in the year 1790, espouse 
the side of this party ?" — It is but justice to say that, to that 
class of men he was under no kind of obligation : he had never 
asked nor received favours from any of them. They had ne- 
glected him, though he was on their side of the question, as 
much as they did those who were opposed to them : he and his 
family had nothing but affliction and distress while they re- 
mained in Dublin, and that 'party neither ministered to his 
necessities, nor sympathised with him in his afflictions. What 
he did was from an ill-grounded fear that the introduction of 
the church service might lead to a separation from the Church, 
(which the prejudice of education could alone suggest,) and 
ne thought the different societies might be induced to attend at 
their parish churches, and so all kinds of dissent be prevented. 
19* 



222 



JOINTRESSES IN DUBLIN. 



But multitudes of those, whatever name they had been called 
by, never belonged to any church, and felt no religious attach- 
ment to any but those who were the means of their salvation. 
When, therefore, they did not find among the Methodists, re- 
ligious service on the proper times of the Lord's-day, they 
often wandered heedlessly about, and became unhinged and 
distracted with the strange doctrines they heard: of this Mr. 
Clarke Avas afterwards fully convinced; and saw the folly of 
endeavouring to force the people to attend a ministiy from 
which they had never received any kind of spiritual advantage, 
and the danger of not endeavouring carefully to cultivate the 
soil which they had with great pain and difficulty enclosed, 
broken up, and sown with the good seed, — the word of the 
kingdom. And to prove that no favour to that party, nor 
expectation from them, led him to advocate their cause, he 
did it when he had left their city and never intended more to 
return. 

While in Dublin, the most solemn event that ever occurred 
in the Methodists' Connexion, took place : — the death of the 
Rev. John Wesley. When Mr. C. heard of it he was over- 
whelmed with grief; all he could do, such were his feelings, 
was to read the little printed Account of his last moments.* 

Of the agitations occasioned by his death in the Methodists' 
Connexion, it is unnecessary to encumber this narrative, as 
they have already been sufficiently detailed. Mr. Wesley's 
respect for Mr. C. was evidenced by the codicil to his last 
will, in which he made him with six others, trustees for all 
his literary property : and this codicil was at last found to 
supercede the will, and these seven administered to Mr. Wes- 
ley's effects, and afterwards conveyed all their rights and 
authority to the Conference. 

Shortly after Mr. Clarke came to Dublin, he entered himself 

* On this occasion Funeral Sermons were preached for him in 
almost every place, and among the rest at City Road, London, by 
Dr. Whitehead, which being highly esteemed, it was shortly after- 
wards published : a copy of this Sermon Mr. Clarke sent to the learn- 
ed Dr. Barnard, then Bishop of Killaloe, accompanied by a letter from 
himself, to which his Lordship replied in the following letter. 

" April 21th, 1791. 

rt Sir, 

M I received the favour of your letter, and the excellent Sermon that 
accompanied it, on the Death of Mr. Wesley, which I have perused 
with serious attention and uncommon satisfaction. 

" It contains a true and not exaggerated encomium on that faithful 
and indefatigable servant of God who is now at rest from his labours, 
and (what is of more consequence to those Who read it,) an intelligi- 
ble and judicious mroKoyia for the doctrine that he taught, which he has 
set forth in the clearest terms, and with a simplicity of style, even 
beyond that of Mr. Wesley himself; without the smallest tincture of 



MR. CLARKE PROSECUTES HIS STUDIES. 



223 



a medical student in Trinity College, and attended several 
courses of Lectures ; one on the Institutes of Medicine, by 
Dr. Dickison, Regius Physician; one on Anatomy, by Dr. 
Cleghorn ; and one on Chemistry, by Dr. R. Perceval. From 
these studies, aided by his own sedulous application, he ob- 
tained a sufficiency of medical knowledge to serve his own 
large family in all common cases, and to keep what he ever 
considered the bane of families, all apothecaries from his door. 
When he thought that skill superior to his own was wanted, 
he employed some respectable physician : and always kept 
and prepared the medicines necessary for domestic use. His 
attendance on Dr. Perceval's Lectures brought on an intimacy 
between him and that excellent man and eminent Physician, 
which has been unbroken for many years, and still flourishes 
with high respect -on both sides. 

While in this city he formed a charitable institution, called 
" The Strangers' Friend Society ; and on the same principles, 
he founded one the following year, at Manchester ; and one 
afterwards in London : the Rules and Plan of which were 
adopted and societies of a similar kind formed in almost all the 
chief towns in England, which still subsist in all their vigour, 
and have done more public good than any charitable institu- 
tions ever formed in the kingdom. 

He buried one child, his eldest daughter, in Dublin ; and re- 
turned to England, in the August of 1791. 



MANCHESTER, 1791—2. 

This year the Methodist conference was held in Manches- 
ter, and Mr. C. being at this time in a bad state of health, was 
appointed to this circuit; being advised to use the Buxton 

(reprehensible) enthusiasm, erroneous judgment, or heterodox opinion. 
He has plainly expounded the truth as it is in Christ Jesus; and 1 
hope and believe that the dispersion of this little tract may do much 
good: as the sublimest truths of Christianity, are there reduced ad 
captum vulgi, and at the same time proved to the learned to be none 
other than such as have been always held and professed in the Chris- 
tian Church from the time of the Apostles till now, however indivi- 
duals may have lost sight of them. 

"I am particularly obliged to you for communicating to me this 
little tract, and wish that I had the pleasure of knowing the author. 

" I return you my thanks for the personal respect you are so good 
as to express for me, and should be happy to deserve it. 
I am, Sir, 

Your very obedient humble servant, 

Thos. Killaloe. 

" If I have omitted to direct this properly I hope you will excuse 
me, as you do not mention whether you are in orders or not" 



224 



THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 



Waters, as the likeliest means of his recovery. He tried the 
waters both by drinking and bathing, and was greatly bene- 
fitted. The following year he visited Buxton again, and had 
his health completely restored. Of the great utility of these 
waters in rheumatic affections, he has ever spoken in trie strong- 
est terms ; believing that this efficacy could not be too highly 
appreciated. 

About this time the French revolution seemed to interest the 
whole of Europe. On the question of its expediency and le- 
gality, men were strangely divided. The high Tories con- 
sidered it as a most atrocious rebellion ; the Whigs, and those 
who leaned to a republican creed, considered it a most justi- 
fiable exertion of an enslaved nation to break its chains, and 
free itself from the most, unprincipled despotism, and abject 
slavery. The history of this mighty contest is well known. 
The nation succeeded, though opposed by all the powers of 
Europe : and many of its officers acquired such eminent de- 
grees of military glory, as surpassed every thing of the kind 
since the days of the Grecian Republics, and the times of the 
ancient Romans. But having defeated all its enemies, it be- 
came ambitious, and went through several forms of govern- 
ment : the mass of the people produced a National Assembly, 
— this a Directory, — this a consular Triumvirate, — this a Dic- 
tator, — this a King of. the French, — this an Emperor, who 
ruled for a considerable time with unlimited power, and unex- 
ampled success ; — confounding the politics of the European 
states, and annihilating their armies. 

At last Napoleon, the most accomplished general and po- 
tentate which modern times have produced, by an ill-judged 
winter campaign against Russia, had an immense army des- 
troyed by the frost, himself barely escaping from the enemy ; 
after which his good fortune seemed generally to forsake him ; 
till at last, when on the eve of victory, at the famous battle of 
Waterloo, by one of those chances of war, to which many lit- 
tle men owe their consequent greatness, and great men their 
downfall, he was defeated, and having thrown himself on the 
generosity of the British, he was sent a prisoner to the Rock 
of St. Helena, where, by confinement and ungenerous treat- 
ment, he became a prey to disease and death. 

On the merits of this Revolution, in all the states through 
which it passed, the British Nation was itself greatly divided. 
Even religious people caught the general mania, greatly ac- 
celerated by the publications of Thomas Paine, particularly 
his Rights of Man, insomuch that the pulpits of all parties, 
resounded with the pro and con politics of the day, to the utter 
neglect of the pastoral duty ; so that u the hungry sheep looked 
up and were not fed." 

It was the lot of Mr. Clarke to be associated at this time 
with two eminent men, who unfortunately took opposite sides 



strangers' friend society. 



225 



of this great political question; one pleading for the lowest 
republicanism, while the other exhausted himself in main- 
taining the divine right of kings and regular governments to 
do what might seem right in their own eyes, the people at large 
having nothing to do with .the laws but to obey them. His 
soul was grieved at this state of things ; but he went calmly on 
his way, preaching Christ crucified for the redemption of a 
lost world ; and though his abilities were greatly inferior to 
those of his colleagues, his congregations were equal to theirs, 
and his word more abundantly useful. Political preachers 
neither convert souls, nor build up believers on their most 
holy faith : one may pique himself on his loyalty ', the other 
on his liberality and popular notions of government ; but in 
the sight of the Great Head of the Church, the first is a sound- 
ing brass, the second a tinkling cymbal. — 

Arcades ambo 

Et cantare pares, et respondere parati. 

Both stubborn statesmen, both with skill inspired, 
To scold or bluster as their cause required. 

When preachers of the gospel become parties in party poli- 
tics, religion mourns, the church is unedified, and political dis- 
putes agitate even the faithful of the land. Sucn preachers, 
no matter which side they take, are no longer the messengers 
of glad tidings, but the seedsmen of confusion, and wasters of 
the heritage of Christ. Though Mr. Clarke had fully made 
up his mind on the politics of the day, and never swerved from 
his Whig principles, yet in the pulpit, there was nothing 
heard from him but Christ crucified, and the salvation pro- 
cured by His blood. 

While in this town, he formed that now well known in- 
stitution called the Strangers' 3 Friend Society, which has 
spread over most of the populous towns and cities of England ; 
and has been the means of turning many to righteousness, as 
well as of saving many thousands from an untimely death. 

In the town and vicinity of Manchester, he laboured for 
two years. Here he found many valuable friends, and had 
the satisfaction to know that he had neither run in vain, nor 
spent his strength for nought. 



APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX. 



The following Letters were written to Miss Maiy 
Cooke, by Mr. Clarke, before they were married. I did 
not think myself authorized to introduce them into the 
body of Dr. Clarke's own narrative, which would so far 
have been interpolated j judging it to be much better that 
the account of his Life, which he had written for publica- 
tion, should appear without any additions from either his 
own pen or those of others. Yet as they are illustrative 
of the preceding part of these Memoirs, and bring him for- 
ward speaking his own feelings in his own person, they 
are here inserted. They declare and describe various si- 
tuations of his mind and circumstances ; entering into that 
sort of conversational detail which causes events to rise up 
living before us, and we thus become companions in his 
thoughts and spectators of his actions. 

Before, however, the Reader proceeds to the perusal of 
these Letters, he may be pleased with knowing the circum- 
stances of an acquaintance which Mr. Clarke formed in 
the year 1791, in Dublin, with a Turkish Janissary. The 
account I have drawn up from memoranda in the hand- 
writing of Dr. Clarke. 

During Mr. Clarke's residence in Dublin, in 1791, he 
was called upon by a Turk, who had just arrived from 
Liverpool, and, being but little acquainted with the Eng- 
lish language, he had inquired for some one who under- 
stood either Arabic or Spanish ; he was directed to Mr, 
Clarke, to whom he soon made known his situation; but, 
20 



230 APPENDIX. 

who received him at first with considerable caution : 
quaintance, however, convinced him of Ibrahim ben Alts 
integrity, and daily intercourse ripened into a friend this 
casual visiter. The principles of Christianity, in which 
Ibrahim had formerly been partially instructed, Mr. Clarke 
explained to him more fully, and in the course of a few 
months he was admitted at his earnest request to the rite of 
Baptism, which was performed by Mr. Rutherford in 
Whitefriar-street Chapel, Mr. Clarke interpreting into Spa- 
nish the words of the Baptismal service. He received the 
name of Adam. 

The account which he gave of himself to Mr. Clarke, 
was in substance the following : — He was born at Con- 
stantinople in the year 1756 ; his father, All ben Mustapha, 
possessed an estate about six miles from Constantinople 
worth 30,000 machbou, about 10,000Z. sterling. From 
his youth he had much of the fear of God, which his 
father, who was a zealous and conscientious Mussulman, 
endeavoured to improve. Among the many slaves which 
his father possessed, there chanced to be several Spaniards, 
who frequently spoke to Ibrahim of the God of the Chris- 
tians, and of Jesus Christ the Saviour of the world ; add- 
ing, even at the hazard of their lives, that Mohammed 
was not a true Prophet, and that his doctrines were false. 
These things were not without their effect upon Ibrahim's 
mind. — 

At eleven years of age he was circumcised, and married 
at thirteen to his first wife Kalima, who was then twelve. 
Shortly after his marriage he performed the pilgrimage to 
Mecca. His mother, Halima, was a Christian, native of 
the Island of Zante, and having been stolen by some Ve- 
netians, was bought in Aleppo by Ali ben Mustapha, who 
loved her too well to take another wife. She preserved 
her love to the Christian religion, and though she never 
dared to speak openly in its favour to her children, yet she 



APPENDIX. 231 

frequently gave them intimations that there was a purer 
way of worshipping the true God than that in which they 
were instructed. When they were old or sickly, she often 
obtained the liberty of many of her husband's Christian 
slaves. 

The next year Ibrahim married his second wife Fatima, 
and his third Ayesha, by all of whom he had six children, 
three by the first wife, two by the second, and one by the 
last. His comforts at home were not so great as to pre- 
vent him from thinking of travelling, and in order to gra- 
tify his desire of seeing more of mankind, his friends ad- 
vised him to procure a post in the army ; this he proposed 
to his father, who obtained him a Captain's commission 
among the Janissaries. 

After he had been about five years in the army, a most 
singular and awful occurrence took place. Two young 
officers, with whom he had contracted a very intimate ac- 
quaintance, and who lodged close to himself in the same 
barracks, were found one morning murdered in their beds. 
He and they used to go together to the Mosque very early 
in the morning, according to the custom of the Mohamme- 
dans : the above-mentioned morning he sent his servant to 
call them as usual, but receiving no answer, Ibrahim went 
to prayers by himself. On returning to his rooms he 
called again, and again received no answer. About eight 
the Basha came and inquired for them ; he found their 
door locked and no answer was returned to his summons j 
he then ordered the door to be forced open, and on his en- 
tering they were both found with their throats cut, and 
their bodies stabbed in several places. Ibrahim, who was 
known to be intimate with the murdered men and who slept 
in the next room, was accused of the murder and commit- 
ted to prison. His declarations of innocence were in vain, 
and his friends, by the exercise of both influence and en- 
treaty, could only obtain five days to be granted, in which 



232 



APPENDIX. 



to seek and discover the murderer. On the fifth day, a 
plate of black olives was sent to him as a token that to- 
morrow he must die. His father, mother, and friends 
came to have their last interview; and his mother's courage 
appears to have been aroused by the imminence of the dan- 
ger, for she openly begged him as a dying man, to trust 
in the Supreme God alone, and to pay no attention to any 
part of the Mohammedan doctrine. An old Spaniard, 
who was a slave in the prison, brought him a cup of coffee, 
and sitting down by his side, said, " Turn Christian and 
recommend your soul to God through Christ Jesus, and 
he will save you unto life eternal." At small intervals 
Ibrahim repeated this three or four times, and was per- 
suaded that his mother had spoken to the slave on this 
subject before her departure from the prison. The night 
he passed without sleep, and at six the next morning the 
attendants of the prison came to his cell. On hearing the 
doors open his strength forsook him and he fainted away;— 
but, when recovered from his swoon, what was his joy to 
be presented with his pardon ! ! In the course of that night 
two private soldiers confessed that they had murdered the 
officers in requital of some harsh treatment which they had 
received at their hands : — they were instantly executed. 
To recompense the old slave, Ibrahim bought him his 
liberty, gave him some money, and sent him to Spain ; 
and the slave in return counselled him to continue his trust 
in the Lord Jesus, who had so wonderfully delivered him, 
and to do all the good that lay in his power to all men, not 
minding to what sect or party or nation they belonged. 
From this time an insatiable desire after a farther acquaint- 
ance with the Christian religion took possession of his 
soul, and never left him till he was fully converted to God. 

About this time the Russians and Turks waged war 
with each other concerning the navigation of the Black 
Sea, and it fell to Ibrahim's lot to be engaged in the cam- 



APPENDIX. 



233 



paign : he was in four battles, received many severe wounds, 
and at last was taken prisoner in the Province of Walla- 
chia, on the banks of the Danube, and carried to Arzeni- 
cour, about fifty miles from St. Petersburgh : here he re- 
mained about two years, and obtained his liberty as the 
grateful acknowledgment of a lady in that neighbourhood, 
whose eyes he had restored to health and strength. The 
good treatment he experienced, his freely conversing with 
the Christians of that place, and rejoicing to hear of the 
Christian religion, excited the envy and malevolence of two 
fellow captives, who wrote to Constantinople, that Ibrahim 
had turned Christian, and that there was every reason to 
believe that he had proved a traitor to his country, by de- 
livering his troops into the hands of the Russians. These 
slanders had such an influence at Constantinople, that his 
brother warned him not to return till all had been investi- 
gated and cleared up. Finding that there was no hope of 
his being able speedily to revisit his native country, he 
embarked on board of a ship bound to Copenhagen, and 
thence he sailed for Liverpool. 

While Ibraham was a prisoner in Russia, his parents, 
wives, and children, had removed to Ismail as a place of 
greater security, while their relative was under suspicion; 
when this place was stormed and sacked by the Russians, 
under SuvarrofF, all the inhabitants were put to the sword, 
and the whole of his family perished in the hideous 
slaughter-house, excepting one brother and sister, who 
had been left behind to take care of their father's estate, 
near Constantinople. 

From Liverpool, as has been stated, Ibrahim came to 
Dublin, where he obtained the acquaintance of Mr. Clarke, 
by whom he was more fully taught the way of salvation, 
and inducted into the Christian Church : he continued to 
maintain an upright character, seldom passed a day with- 
out spending part of it with Mr. Clarke's family, and 
20* 



234 APPENDIX. 

when they left Dublin for Liverpool, he accompanied 
them, remaining during Mr. Clarke's two years' abode in 
that town. Manchester was the next place to which the 
family removed, whither also Ibrahim accompanied them, 
and after residing some considerable time there in con- 
stant intercourse with Mr. Clarke, he departed for Ame- 
rica, where he married a lady of the Baptist persuasion, 
continuing faithful to his religious profession, and ulti- 
mately dying the death of the righteous. 



The following are some of the Letters which were writ- 
ten by Mr. Clarke to Miss Mary Cooke, afterwards Mrs 
Clarke. 



LETTERS. 



235 



LETTERS. 



i. 

Les Terres, Dec. 24, 1786. 

May every grace that constitutes the whole mind that was in Jesus 
be multiplied unto my dear Mary, that she may stand perfect and 
entire in the will of God, lacking nothing ! Amen. 

You once asked my opinion concerning the meaning of the phrase 
" the Eternal Son of God." I gave it you, and howsoever singular, 
and unauthorized by Doctors, it may appear, yet I never had any rea- 
son to alter it, nor do I believe I ever shall. After having been sorely 
tost in beating about the common bay for anchorage, without success, 
I have at last, through the tender mercy of God, found it where I 
almost ride alone. 

As long as I believe Jesus Christ to be the Infinite Eternal I AM, 
so long I suppose I shall reject the common notion of his " Eternal 
Sonship ;" not only because it is an absurdity and palpable contradic- 
tion, but because I cannot find it in the Bible. On His Godhead, the 
foundation of the salvation of my soul is laid : every thing therefore 
that derogates from that, I most cordially reject. In the following 
extract you may see the method made use of to account for the com- 
mon opinion, and make it appear without contradiction. The book 
from which I have made this extract, is entitled, VEvangile Medite, 
par L'Abbe Gir andean. Tom. i. Meditat. 25e. Sur Jean i. 1. 

" The Mysteries of the Logos {or Word) considered with respect to 
Himself. 

" 1. The Evangelist St. John represents the Word in God : and 
first his Eternity. £ In the beginning was the Word.' When the 
world was created, the Word then existed. If it then existed in the 
beginning, it was before the beginning : and if it was before the 
beginning, it had no beginning : therefore it is eternal. 

" 2. The Evangelist points out His subsistence as a distinct person, 
for he says c the Word was IN God f i. e. in God the Father, 'of whom 
it is engendered, or produced by way of understanding, or knowledge. 
God the Father, who is the first Person in the Divine Nature, knew 
himself, and formed by His knowledge, a perfect image of His sub- 



236 



LETTERS. 



stance : this is His Word, His Son, and a Person really distinct from 
Himself. It is the same of the Holy Ghost, (of whom the Evangelist 
does not speak here, because his design was only to make Jesus Christ 
known.) The Father and the Son love one another with an infinite 
love ; — that love is the Holy Ghost, who proceeds from the Father and 
the Son by way of spiration, and who makes the third person of that 
adorable Trinity. 

" 3. The Evangelist points out His Divinity, ' The word was God * 
for there is nothing in God but what is eternal, and there is nothing in 
God which is not God. The Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spi- 
rit, are three Persons, who have the same Nature, and same Divi- 
nity, &c. &c." 

Exotics are generally more esteemed than native productions ; but 
though the above (especially that written in italics) has the property 
of exoticism to recommend it, yet I dare say you will be in no haste to 
incorporate it with your own creed. Would it not be better to let that 
sacred unfathomable mystery alone, than by attempting to define it, to 
run oneself into such absurdities and futilities as the above 1 By the 
Abbe's method every man or woman may form .themselves into three 
distinct persons. For let a man only know himself, then he has a 
second person ; again, let him love himself and his knowledge, and 
then he has a third ! How much more excellent are the plain words 
of Scripture! — "There are Three that bear record in heaven, the 
Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost, and these Three are One." 
What a piece of insanity to attempt to find out the Godhead, and 
to ascertain the mode of its existence ! and yet this was the method the 
Schoolmen, and the primitive Fathers, made use of to explain the 
Trinity. See Chambers' Encyclopaedia, sub voce. 



II. 

Guernsey, Jan. 23, 1787. 
Last evening I arrived in safety from Jersey, after an absence of 
only seven days. (A few minutes after my arrival I received yours 
of the 12th instant, which had arrived here on the 20th.) My voyage 
has been useful both to my body and soul. I met with some deeply 
experienced Christians, compared with whom I am but a very little 
child. An elderly and a young woman are the most remarkable. 
The former seems to possess all the solemnity and majesty of Chris- 
tianity ; she has gone and is going through acute corporeal sufferings, 
but these add to her apparent dignity : her eyes, every feature of her 
face, to ether with all her words, are uncommonly expressive of the 
word ETERNITY, in that importance in which it is considered by 
those whose minds are devoted to deep reflection. To her I put myself 



LETTERS. 



237 



frequently to school, during my short abode in the island, and could not 
avoid learning much, unless I had been invincibly ignorant, or dia- 
bolically proud. The latter seems possessed of all that cheerful hap- 
piness and pure love, which so abundantly characterize the Gospel of 
Christ. Peace, meekness, and joy, judiciously immingled by the saga- 
cious economy of the Holy Spirit, constitute a glorious something, 
ajfectingly evident in all her deportment, which I find myself quite at 
a loss to describe. Two such I know not that I have before found : 
they are indeed the rare and the excellent of the earth. A summary 
of both characters seems- comprised in this: — of the former it may 
be truly said, 

"Not grave with sternness," r) \ 5 

— of the latter, 

" Nor with lightness free." ' ' ^"f 

You are excellent at ideal realization, I leave you to indulge it here in 
respect of both persons, without being much afraid of its running into 
the excessive. 

* ***** 

I do not intend to write a Treatise on Conscience, and those other 
punctilios connected with it: I desire you to supply my lack of ser- 
vice : I know you are capable enough unless your health forbids. 
For my own part, I am well assured I shall never make an author : 
were there no other reasons, my ide ^ f ow too quick for the slow pro- 
cess of black upon white. The thought, therefore, / entirely relin- 
quish. What I spoke to you relative to the " Eternal Sonship" of the 
Almighty's Fellow, is not a slight opinion with me, but a deeply gra- 
ven sentiment. I have read some of the strongest reasonings of the 
Schoolmen and the Fathers of the church on this head, but their finest 
hypotheses appear so unmeaning, trifling, and futile, as to afford no 
satisfaction to a sincere inquirer after essential truth. I believe that 
which we discover of this glorious truth is the opinion which Eternity 
will exhibit only in greater degrees, and with more abundant evidence. 
It appears to me that the Arian and Socinian schemes, cannot only be 
strongly combated, but effectually overthrown, by a firm adherence to, 
and judicious infering from, these propositions. As Arianism, &c. 3 
abounds now, I think the Church of God has much need of a Treatise 
of this kind : were I equal to the task it should soon appear in the 
world ; but here I must stop, finding much reason to adore my gra- 
cious Maker, notwithstanding he has not given me adequate abilities. 

* * * * * * 

I expect, according to your intimated promise, a whole book of 
" Detached Thoughts" from you when I see you. It has been winter 
with my genius for some time past: hardly the germs of happy 
thought on important topics have been apparent. I find I cannot 



238 



LETTERS. 



create genius, though I can obliterate or at least stupify it : but how- 
ever this may be, I find it possible to love, fear and obey an astonish- 
ingly kind and merciful God. Surely his name deserves all the praises 
heaven and earth can yield, for his long-suffering tenderness towards 
me, who am— God knows what ! 

You ask me, u Cannot you join with me in sympathetic bearing 

of Mr. 's trouble V 7 i. e. for the loss of his amiable wife. I 

really think he who has lost an amiable pious wife, (such I believe Mrs. 
was,) has sustained the greatest loss he could on this side eter- 
nity next to the loss of his God, if he had one : and that it is a duty to 
mourn with those who mourn, I cordially allow. " Well then, will 

you not sympathise with Mr. ? w I must be assured first that 

he mourns before I can mourn with him. But I have strong reasons 
to induce me to believe that he mourns not, though the wife, the friend, 
and more than friend, is dead ! You are perhaps surprised. Taite 
the following extract from a letter from one of the excellent of the 
earth, who I know is incapable of lying or exaggerating. " The 

day after I received your letter, Mrs. died : we expect that 

Mrs. will soon leave us, as it is likely that Mr. and she 

will soon be ma,rried." Seeing this is the case, I ask, is the present con- 
nexion, and a mourning for death's last inroad, compatible'? Is there 
any room for you or me, think you, to bear a " sympathetic part" in 
sorrows thai no longer exist? I deplore her not : she is taken away 
from the evil (that is likely) to come ! Let us catch her mantle ! 

****** 

You cannot be too much In earnest for full salvation, therefore con- 
tinue pleading the " Promise of the Father," for it is yea and amen to 
you, the blessing is as free as the air you breathe, — the willingness of 
God to fulfil his promise to you infinitely exceeds my description 
and your conception : I know unbelief will either assert the contrary, 
or raise some difficulty, but dont give ear to it, remember, 

!i Faith, mighty faith, the promise Bees, 
And looks to that alone ; 
Laughs at impossibilities, 
And cries, It shall be done." 

Salvation by faith is a more simple plain easy doctrine, than one in 
a thousand imagines. That complexity and difficulty in which it is 
generally viewed, keep numbers from going up at once to possess the 
good land. I allow, so long as mystical divinity is consulted, the pro- 
mise of His coming must be looked upon as exceedingly distant, as 
that only breathes " a long work will God make upon the earth ;" but 
the word of faith by the gospel says the kingdom of God is at hand : yea, 
the means of receiving it is in thy heart, and in thy mouth. In short, 
looking on it as distant, will make it distant ; whereas, believing it 
as near, will bring it near. 



LETTERS. 



239 



III. 

April 4, 1787. 

Being attacked from so many quarters there was little view of my 
lingering long, especially as I had been slowly wasting for some 
months before. The people were greatly alarmed, and proclaimed a 
day of fasting, prayer, and weeping, to snatch their poor preacher 
from the grave. Their sorrow caused me to feel : — for myself, I could 
neither weep nor repine ; but I could hardly forbear the former on 
their account. — The Doctor, on his second visit, found that I was 
severely attacked by the jaundice ; and so took the cure of that first in 
hand: but withal observed that I should not regain my health properly , 
nor be free from bilious complaints, till I resumed my former method — 
of riding. Through much mercy, I am now much mended : my cough 
is almost entirely removed ; and my doctor has this day informed 
me that my tawny disorder begins to abate. I am now only confined 
to my room ; but am very much enfeebled. Indeed, I am little else 
(considered abstractedly from my spirit) than a quantity of bones and 
sinews, wrapt up in none of the best coloured skins. But this also has, 
and will, work together with other providential dispensations for my 
good. When I was almost at the worst I opened my Septuagint on 
the 91st Psalm, and on the three last verses, which are much more 
emphatical than the English, particularly the middle clause of the 
15th verse : 11 1 am with him in affliction." Glory be to God my 
Saviour, I found it to be so ! O, may I to eternity lie in deep humility 
at His feet, recognizing the immenseness of His mercy, and the utter 
utter unworthiness of the subject on which it has wrought so many 
miracles, truly expressive of its own unconfined benignity ! Do you 
wish to know how I was taken care of during my sickness 1 I indeed 
lacked nothing that could be procured j nor was there any difficulty to 
procure persons to set up with me day or night : yea, I had much favour 
in the sight even of the Egyptians. May the good Lord to eternity 
reward them for what they have done for His unworthy servant. 



IV. 

Guernsey, May 22, 1787. 
You will easily see by the place of date that I am arrived : and, (to 
the honour of my gracious God be it acknowledged,) in perfect safety. 
On the 19th I wrote to you from Southampton, which I hope you have 
duly received. Saturday the captain informed me that he intended to 
sail the next morning ; in consequence of which I got myself in readi- 
ness and sent my trunk aboard. As eight was the hour fixed for 



240 



LETTERS. 



embarkation, several persons, Dissenters, &c, entreated me to give 
them a sermon before I departed, for which I should have time enough 
if I began at half past six. I consented, and a good company, for the 
time and place, met. The Lord was with me, and gave much liberty 
to expose, and power to shake the sandy foundation of spiritual still- 
ness, consisting of hopes, trusts, conjectures, and possibles, on which 
several had been building their expectation of glory. 

The good Lord quickened the people much, and though my work 
was done at the expense of almost every particle of my strength ; yet 
was I sufficiently repaid in'finding that any good was done. Well it 
was, that our sailing was postponed till two o'clock, as I was quite 
unwell, and consequently incapable of going. But at that hour I 
embarked, being escorted to the boat by several serious Presbyterians, 
who had heard me preach, and who wished me more blessedness than 
their tongues were capable of expressing. The wind was a little 
against us ; but as there was a good breeze, and our vessel an excel- 
lent sailer, we soon lost sight of Southampton, and next day by noon 
were abreast of Cape la Hogue, in Normandy. Here we were obliged 
to cast anchor in about thirty-four fathom water, having a strong tide 
against us, and scarcely a breath of wind to carry us forward 
When the tide served we weighed anchor, and stood on our course j 
but made very little progress, the breeze being so scant and small. At 
last we got to the Island of Sark, three leagues from Guernsey, where 
we thought we should be obliged to anchor all night, the tide in our 
favour being almost exhausted, and the wind changed to right a-head. 
W hat a mortification I to be thus detained on sea in sight of our lodg- 
ing'? In these circumstances some were seriously calling, — Blow pre- 
cious breeze. Others whistling to invite it ; some chafing and others 
striving (as they called it) " to make the best of a bad market." 

****** 

I proceed to give you some account of my company : — We had on 
board a captain of the army, a lieutenant of a man of war, some other 
military officers, and some gentlemen so called. I might almost stop 
here, as a few inferences deduced from well known premises, would 
give my dear Mary a tolerable estimate of the " men and their con- 
versation." Let it suffice to say we had at first some swearing, which, 
by the grace of God, I reproved : by and bye they began, (though on 
the Sabbath,) to sing songs, as if it had been their Easter Tuesday. 
This I immediately remonstrated against, which brought on a long 
altercation, in which the Lord enabled me to confound the whole of 
them : for the present they desisted ; but again they renewed their 
singing with double vigor. I stepped up to the quarter-deck, on which 
they were assembled, and charged the principal of them — "in the 
name of the living God to be silent," adding, " I will not suffer such 
profanation of the Lord's-day." He stopped and asked me, " Wfiat 



LETTERS. 



241 



authority I had for acting as I did 1 and ivko I was V* I answered, " I 
am a servant of Jesus Christ, and the authority by which I prohibit 
your breach of the Sabbath, I have from God." Singing tempers 
were soon abandoned; and I was apparently brought into several 
dangers without fearing any. Glory to Christ, He kept me meek, 
fearless, and as bold as a lion. The consequence was, being con- 
founded they were obliged to be calm, and their bacchanalian songs so 
effectually stopped, that the devil had not the honour of a single verse 
during the remainder of the Sabbath. I kept my authority the whole 
voyage, and continued, with affectionate boldness, (God abundantly 
helping me,) to reprove all their vices. I plainly see that the feeblest 
servant of God may be, (if faithful,) an instrument of preventing (at 
least) a multitude of iniquities, and shewing forth the honour and glory 
of God before men, which will be either to their conviction or confu- 
sion, according to the use they make of it. 



V. 

Seven miles oeyona Warminster. 

My Dear Mary, 

Mr. Slade has no doubt informed you that 1 was disappointed of a 
place in the stage, by its being uncommonly full. I was quite willing 

to have returned to T , providing I could have had a passage 

next day ascertained : but this the coachman told me he could not pro- 
mise, as every place for the next day was already bespoke. A cart 
for Sarum* was standing at the door of the inn, just ready to depart: I 
agreed with the proprietor and embarked ; but the extreme noise, and 
only a cord across to lean my back against, rendered the ride rather 
disagreeable. Does my dear M. desire to know how my feelings are ? 
What did I say when I departed? Was it that " a separation from 
the Lord would be only worse 1" I say so still : though between the 
present, and the above separation, there is no parallel, yet this I think 
is the next to it. You thought you should be obliged to preach to 
me. And suppose you had begun, what would you have exhorted 
me to? Why " Do not murmur nor repine." I do neither. "Do 
not love inordinately." I think I can here plead not guilty. Never- 
theless my sensations have been truly poignant. Had I an arm cut 
off by a very slow process, might I not feel much pain, and yet not 
transgress 1 

" Nature unreprov'd might shed a tear." 
There might be " sorrow without sin." Is there not more than an arm 
severed from me at the present 1 There is. Ancfcould I not as soon 
divest myself of muscles and nerves, as not feel 1 
21 



242 



LETTERS. 



Salisbui y, i) o'clock, p. m.— Fatigued enough I arrived at 7 o'clock. 
— After I left you I felt rather a sudden alteration in my mind : a gloomy 
resignation (tolerably good in its kind) took place, and was " fast 
reared" by a stoical insensibility. In these circumstances I remained, 
till, about a mile and a half out of town, I met with Father Knapp : — 
his appearance awakened in my (almost senseless) spirit some of the 
most tender sensations : I shook hands, but could not speak to him. I 
passed on, — grieved a little, — looked upwards, — and was once more 
calm. I strove to look a little into futurity, to spy out, if possible, 
even a probable prospect of a return, which might be a means of pre- 
sent consolation : but this my kind God absolutely refused to indulge 
me in ; — not permitting me to see a hair's breadth beyond that indivi- 
sible point j which makes the present in time : and thus I continue : my 
soul, filled with embryo somethings, which it cannot express, nor 
hardly conceive, struggles out, Thy will be done! I am now so 
fatigued and exhausted that I am able to write no more to-night 



VI. 

Mon Plaisir, October 19, 1787. 

My Dear M., 

Through the great mercy of my gracious God, I am landed once 
more in Guernsey. May His great name be blessed for ever ! I wrote 
to you from Alderney a letter, bearing the two-fold dates of the 16th, 
and 17th, instant ; in which 1 informed you of my arrival there, on 
the evening of the 15th, and the dangers which (through the aid of 
God) we escaped. I need not here recapitulate or particularize what 
in that epistle I have said, as I hope you will receive it safely ere this 
can come to hand. At present I can add but a little, being almost worn 
out by the severe fatigues through which I have been lately led. You 
must, therefore, excuse thejfaM? lines which give you little other infor- 
mation than that of my arrival. However, I will endeavor to add a 
little by way of supplement to the other Journal accounts, all of which 
[ hope you have safely received. Wednesday being too stormy to 
attempt to sail for Guernsey, I had the opportunity of preaching once 
more to a people prepared to receive the Word of Life. God was 
truly with me, and much I err if conviction and persuasion did not 
accompany the words He enabled me to speak. The gracious Lord 
has made an inroad here on the kingdom of Satan, which I humbly 
hope shall be retained with increasing advantage. Thursday, the 
18th, came, and with it brought a tempest from NW. I had been 
forced almost to believe (notwithstanding the narrow escape for my 
life between Cowes and Yarmouth, and the tooth-skin delivery in get- 



LETTERS. 



243 



ting to Alderney,) that my difficulties were not all yet at an end: 
Wednesday night I could not rest well, notwithstanding my former 
fatigue; my busy spirit foreboding something to which I could not give 
a name, kept all the avenues of my senses unlocked. I got up, 
and after having taken a little breakfast, I was summoned to the 
pier to sail for Guernsey. I set off accompanied by some friends who 
came to escort me to the port, where I found the vessel waiting only 
for me. Truly it blew a hurricane ; but the captain was determined 
to sail. We were badly manned before, but now it was much worse, 
as one of our sailors having got ten shillings, was determined not to 
stir till he had drunk it out. We loosed out from the pier-head, and 
got under sail ; but although we had two reefs in our main sail, the 
sea ran so high, and the wind was so boisterous, we soon found our 
vessel had more canvass than she could live under : we were in conse- 
quence thereof obliged to lie to, that we might take down our weather 
jib sheet, and put a small one in its place. I had taken a stand at the 
bulk-head, from whence I had the opportunity of seeing every thing 
around me. And what think you I saw clearest 1 Why the awful 
aspect of death impressed on every thing. A sensation, unusual to 
me, sunk my soul as to the centre of the earth, or bottom of the abyss. 
" Alas ! thought I, and am I indeed afraid of death 1 Is this the issue 
of matters with me 1 Lord Jesus, into thy hands I commit my spirit ! 
on the infinite merit of thy blood I rest my soul !" Immediately all 
was calm : and this enabled me to take a full look at death, who was 
shortly to pass by in dreadful port. The sailors being unhandy, the 
weather jib sheet was long in setting, and the vessel during the time, 
was wearing towards a range of dreadful rocks. The sea continuing 
to run high, and the wind blowing fiercely, brought us so much in 
leeway, that the vessel would not answer the helm, but drove among 
the rocks. In a few moments all was commotion! exertion! and des- 
pair! and aery more dreadful than that of fire at midnight, issued 
from all quarters, " Cut away the boat ! get ready the boat ! the ves- 
sel is lost ! the vessel is lost \ n The people on the pier (for we were 
not far distant from it) seeing our danger, and believing our ship- 
wreck inevitable, got out a boat with four strong men to try to save 
the lives of the passengers and sailors. At this solemn crisis, fell, 
pallid despair, had miscreated every face : — with the utmost safety I 
believe I may aver, scarcely a particle of courage or equanimity 
remained in any, save in a captain of regulars, and your A. C. 
Through the grace of God my soul was quite unmoved : I waited like 
the captain to meet my fate with firmness : nor did my countenance 
or actions betray any anxiety or carking care. In the moment, when 
a dreadful rock within two or three yards of our lee bow, gave us 
every thing to dread, and took away the last grain of hope, God, who 
sits above the water-floods, by an unseen arm hove the vessel to lee- 
ward : she past the rock as within a hair's-breadth, answered once 



244 



LETTERS. 



more her helm, and from the lip of eternity we escaped into the pier ' 

Lord God ! how marvellous are thy doings in the earth ! and how 
dost thou manifest thy wonders in the mighty waters ! 

" The sea has now confest thy power, 
And given me back to thy command ; 
It could not, Lord, my life devour, 
Safe in the hollow of thy hand." 

I cannot help saying something here by way of eulogium on the 
brave military captai n. His great presence of mind, his action, and his 
courage, shewed him to be a great man : and had he vital religion, I 
am persuaded, a greater (in his profession) perhaps Europe could not 
boast of. His name is Hanfield, I think of the 22nd regiment. I must 
say, it was nothing to my honour, that I stood in the trying time with 
courage : it was the grace of Christ, and that only which enabled me 
to turn my eyes undaunted on the tomb, the watery tomb. To God 
only wise and gracious, be the eternal glory ascribed, through Christ 
Jesus ! Amen. 

Perhaps you will be surprised at what follows. Though we but a 
few moments before, escaped destruction, yet the desperate captain of 
the vessel would go out again ! I thought, " seeing God has saved my 
life from going down into the pit, it would be tempting his providence 
to go out again with them, I will therefore take a boat and go imme- 
diately to shore." But I again thought, " Will it not reflect dishonour 
on the religion I profess, and the sacred character I bear 1 If all go 
out again, and J stay behind, will it not be reported, the Methodist 
Preacher was afraid of death ; his boasted spiritual evidences of sal- 
vation did not free him from its power'? 'Tis granted, it may be so : 
in the name of Jesus ! I will once more venture !" Perhaps my dear 
M. may be induced to say, " The reasoning was absurd, and the 
action condemnable." Well, be it so : but out I went, and what I suf- 
fered during the passage, my pen cannot describe. — Every minute, 
and sometimes oftener, the sea washed over the vessel, the violent agi- 
tation made me sick, almost unto death ; and vomiting till the blood 
came, was but a part of what I suffered : — but of this dreary tale I 
shall say no more. The things that a person buys dear are generally 
more prized and better regarded, than those that come cheap. I think 

1 have not yet paid your full price, though the part I have borne is 
known only to God. If it be possible to get you under value, I would 
say, Lord, excuse me from paying more ! I landed on St. Peter's pier, 
before five o'clock, p. m., and found a people nearly as glad to see me 
as I was to feel myself on terra firma again. I went to the post- 
office, and got yours of the 6th inst., I was surprised to find no more, 
seeing I had written so many. 

When I began this epistle I did not purpose to write the half of 
what I have written ; being at present so worn out and so unwell 
See what God has done for me, and praise Him in my behalf 



LETTERS, 



245 



VII. 

Mon Plaisir, Nov. 25, 1787. 
Last evening I received your very welcome epistle, bearing date the 
20th instant, which came in good time, and for which I most affection- 
ately thank my dear Mary. The temptations, relative to your welfare, 
which I have lately gone through, (though in a measure healed by the 
receipt of the present,) yet have left a solemn impressed scar on my 
spirit. Perhaps it was my waking solicitude which induced me to dream 
some time ago, that I had received an epistle from sister B — y, inform- 
ing me that my Mary was no longer an inhabitant of the earth ; and 
enclosed was an oration which had been delivered at her funeral, part 
of which I still perfectly remember. Even in sleep how capable is 
the soul of being distressed 1 What think you I then felt 1 and what 
think you I felt even when the visionary cause of my distress had fled 
away before opened eyes, and recollected senses? — Truly my soul can 
say that, the falsity of my dream was more precious to me than the 
whole globe, had it been in my possession. But the impressions left 
upon my mind by this miserable vision, did not vanish as speedily as 
the thing itself. What a mercy is it to be kept from the vagaries of 
an unreasoned spirit, and the influences of the Spiritual Wickednesses 
in the night season 1 Indeed so perplexed have I been of late with 
similar matters in my sleep, that at whatever time I awoke in the night, 
I have thought it better to arise at once, than to put it in the power 
of my enemies to perplex me any farther. Another reason for this 
perhaps was, I have enjoyed but imperfect health at least for eight 
days past, which derangement of bodily organs, afforded my spirit an 
opportunity to employ itself in such unfriendly fancies ; or rendered 
it less capable of resisting those malevolent beings which walk the 
earth unseen. Yet, hitherto could he come, but no farther: blessed be 
God! Satan cannot exceed his chain. I dare say my dear Mary 
would be willing to know particulars relative to the last mentioned 
affair. On the 18th instant, (not knowing my weakness, and having 
a very large attentive congregation, and bemg willing to speak for 
eternity,) I exceeded my time, and hurt myself much : I have not yet 
got the better of it, but I think I shall strive against myself, and com- 
mit less errors of this kind in future, than I have hitherto done. Again, 
as the winter comes on, and the time for walking is uncomfortable, I 
abide in the house, and this lack of exercise injures me not a trifle. It 
is true, I have many trips to and from town, but these do not contri- 
bute much to my bodily welfare, as they are taken generally before 
day, and after night, which are the seasons I preach at. I know not 
really how I shall prevail on myself to make an amendment here ; 
having entered so deeply into the spirit of study, every moment seems 
precious, and the day too short for the work I appoint it. I really can- 
21* 



246 



LETTERS. 



not spare time even to write to several of my friends to whom I am 
in epistolary debt ! no one but my Mary, stands a pleasing candi- 
date for a single letter, and to her I can- write as I used to speak : 
it being the only substitute for the conversation of which I am now 
deprived. 

Do you wish to be acquainted with my studies ? And shall 1 make 
an open confession to you, and thereby subject myself to your pen- 
sure ? I would just say, I yet pursue my old, and have made some 
additions to my former plan. French certainly must not be entirely 
forgotten ; I know not but that meets with injustice : the Septuagint 
I cannot persuade myself to relinquish ; how can I, seeing my esteem 
for it rather increases : the writing of occasional notes I must continue, 
though perhaps none will think them worth reading but myself. 
Another kind of writing which in general employs all my brains, 
shares not a small part of my time : — farther, occasional reading and 
translating, take up some more, and the book which I have to trans- 
late for Mr. Wesley, (which I have not yet begun,) must come shortly, 
and this I think will hardly leave me time to take my food. Again, — 
"What! more yet?" O yes, Philosophical Researches have not a 
slender part of the day and night. It appears, my dear Mary, that my 
spirit has lately got more latitude and longitude than it ever had before : 
the earth does not now content it, though it knows but a trifle of that, 
it must needs understand the heavens, and call all the stars by their 
names. Truly I do find an ability for speculations of this kind, which 

I never had before : but I am shackled, — perhaps it is well so, — I have 
not glasses to perform the lucubrations I would. I own, my dear Mary, 
this may be an error, I freely own it to you: will your tenderness for 
me permit you to reprove me sharply, if you see I am wrong ? But 
shall I speak a word for myself? I would then say ; I do indeed find 
this is not a barren study to my mind ; my soul is thereby led to the 
Framer of unnumbered worlds, and the omnipotency of my Redeemer 
appears illustriously stamped on the little out of the almost infinite, 
which I am able to view. I stand astonished at the amazing wisdom, 
power, and goodness of our excellent God, which I now more particu- 
larly discover impressed on every thing that falls within the little 
sphere of my understanding. Did I not find it to have this effect, I 
could not in conscience pursue studies of the kind. Yet do not think, 
my dear, that I speak thus, in order to prohibit the censures I seemed 
at first to invite ; not at all. On the contrary, I would suggest the fol- 
lowing, to give you room for censure if you deem it applicable, viz. 

II May there not be more simple methods found out, which have a 
directer tendency to cultivate the soul, than some of these I pursue?" — 
Truly I can say, my soul's most earnest wish is to live to Him who 
died and rose again for me. O, my Mary ! what do I owe Him ! 
His long-suffering with, and mercies to me, almost stupify my soul, 
when in reflection. JESUS! be Thou the centre to which my soul 



LETTERS. 



247 



shall incessantly gravitate! yea more, let it come more particularly 
ycvXjo contact, and rest in Thee for ever and ever ! Amen. 



VIII. 

Mon Plaisir, Dec. 2, 1787. 
It is strange to see how times change ; — last winter I had in general 
a Congregation made up of several of the most reputable persons in 
the Island: — to keep me among them, they offered to provide hand- 
somely for me : — their kind offer I again and again rejected : — how- 
ever, they continued to hear, believing I spoke the words of truth and 
soberness, and as they phrased it, n In the best manner they had ever 
heard." — " Pity it was that I could not be permitted to preach in the 
Church at least every Sunday." However, tkis, like all things " under 
the Sun," must have an end. By and bye, one of these gentry staid 
away ; another attended less frequently — then he dropped off ; — such 
and such did not come, therefore, I lost some more ; — and so on, till 
hardly a soul of them came either on Sabbaths or other days. I was 
then as a person who had been " in honour, but continued not," and 
my ministry was at last confined to 11 the poor, the best friends of my 
God !" These cleaved closely to me, and praised God that the candle- 
stick was yet in its place. With these I endeavoured to keep on my 
way, and the dropping in of one now and then to Society, held up my 
hands. Persecutions arose, and evil reports were liberally spread 
abroad; this made it rather dangerous for any of my quondam friends 
to take any notice of me : then I was obliged fully to walk alone, but 
through the strength of God, I was enabled to weather every trying 
circumstance. Finally, as things cannot be long at a stay " under the 
Sun," the time for a revolution must again take place, and the honour 
that I sought not, had, and lost, would, as unsought for, again return. 
One, — another, — and another, have ventured back, heard, — were pleas- 
ed and profited once more, — brought others along with them, till at last 
1 have all back again, with an accession of several new ones, and now 
I am " an honourable man ;" and surely a great many good things 
would not be too good for me now, would I accept them. Thus you 
see, my dear Mary, " there is but as one day between a poor man and 
a rich." It is well, it is ineffably well, to have a happiness that is not 
affected by the great and many changes to which external things are 
incident : what a blessing to be able to sit calm on the wheel of for- 
tune, and to prosper in the midst of adversity ! 



248 



LETTERS. 



IX. 

Thursday Morning , 21. 
I trust I can say, with gratitude to God, my complaints are on the 
remove : and though I cannot say I feel a vast deal easier, because the 
natural consequence of the medicines I have taken is, to probe keenly 
in order to cure; yet I believe I am better; and trust, through the 
blessing of the Lord, to have a complete cure. Though there has 
been preaching in English three times since I returned, yet I have not 
attempted to shew myself even once to the people. Yesterday, a sol- 
dier belonging to the Train, whom the Lord gave, together with his 
wife, sometime ago, to my feeble labours, came to see me. I .have 
seldom seen more affection, commixed with as much of childlike sim- 
plicity as you can conceive, evidenced before. He looked in my face 
pitifully, and saying, " I heard you was sick," sat down in a chair, 
and melted into tears. Yes; and yet he is a soldier! It is amazing, 
this man was a very great slave to drunkenness. One morning last 
summer, having got drunk before five o'clock ! he some way or other 
strolled out to Les Terres, and heard me preach, and was deeply con- 
vinced. " What ! and he drunk V Yes. After preaching he took me 
by the hand, and with the tears streaming down his cheeks, betwixt 
drunkenness and distress, he was only capable of saying a very few- 
words: — c: Sir, I know you are a man possessed by the Spirit of 
God." He went home, and after three days' agonies, God, in tender 
compassion, set his soul at liberty. His wife also set out for the same 
neaven in good earnest : and shortly found the peace of God ; and both 
joined the Society, and have walked ever since most steadfastly in 
faith and good works. Glory ! Glory be to God Most High ! 

****** 



X. 

Blessed be the Lord, it has been a time of much good both to my 
body and mind. Since the 27th, on which I wrote last, the Lord has 
opened his heaven most benignly in my soul ; and with that has given 
me to discover Him as one uniform, uninterrupted, eternal Goodv-ill, 
towards all His creatures. When I look into myself I am astonished 
that H!e condescends to pay me the smallest visit ; but when I contem- 
plate Him under the above attribute, my astonishment ceases, though 
I cannot forget myself 

****** 

Were I like Mohammed's feigned angel, having to my lot, " Seventy 
thousand heads, each actuated by as many tongues, and each of these 



LETTERS. 



249 



uttering seventy thousand distinct voices, 55 with my present ideas of 
the Divine Being, I should think their eternal vibrations in His praise 
an almost no tribute to a God so immeasurably good ! And yet where 
am I going 1 I have but one tongue, and that speaks but very inex- 
pressively, the choicest blessings of heaven are given unto me ; and 
how, how seldom, comparatively, is it used in shewing forth His 
excellency, or acknowledging how deep His debtor I am ! O, my 
God ! what reason have I to be ashamed and confounded 7 But Thou 
wilt have mercy. Again, 1 discover that God can only be viewed in 
the above light through God made Man; i. e. manifested in the flesh; 
and this sets forth the Redeemer in the most amiable and absolutely 
important point of view. God through Him is altogether lovely ! 
But remove this Medium, and this my beautiful system is lost in chaos, 
in the twinkling of an eye. Glory be to God for Christ ! AmerL 



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comparable man may be obtained in two volumes, at less than 
one half the price at which they were formerly published, and 
that for typographical beauty and general convenience, it is 
greatly to be preferred to the old edition in 10 octavos. — [Con- 
gregational Magazine, April 2, 1832. 

D. A. & Co., being the publishers of the above edition, 
would particularly invite all to examine its execution. The 
price of which will be regulated according to the number taken. 
To students or others, procuring subscribers for the work, it 
will be offered at a reduction. 

CRUDEN'S CONCORDANCE, of the 
New Testament, by Alexander Cruden, M. 
A., to which is prefixed a memoir of the 
Author, by W. Youngman — abridged from 
the last London edition, by Rev. Win. Pat- 
ten. 18mo. A fine engraved portrait ac- 
companies the work. 

This work is very highly recommended for Sabbath schools, Bible 
alasses, and private families, containing" all the words which may be 
sought for relating to the New Testament ; and thus it will be found to 
be the only complete pocket edition extant which will be of any service 
to the possessor. A copy of the work may be had gratis of the publish- 
ers, if the object is to examine as to its merits, for the purpose of intro- 
ducing it— as being confident that it is the only complete pocket edition 
yet published, having spared no pains to have it free from typog raphical 
errors and executed every way in the best manner, as to paper, type, 
and printing 1 , (highly creditable to the foundry of Conner & Cooke,) 
they throw it before the public, fully confident that it will meet with 
their approbation and patronage. 



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